#got plenty more in store for her this year and can’t wait to share it with y’all!!!

[mitchythekiddoodles]

Happy canon birthday/8th anniversary to Lily, the queen of sending it a bit too hard!

#art #my ocs #anthro #furry #lily #lakeside overdrive #digital art #look at how much my art kid has grown up #got plenty more in store for her this year and can’t wait to share it with y’all!!!

[jahayla-parker]

Hi congratulations 🎉 your writing is amazing as always putting a smile on people faces, including mine! 💜 I would like to make a request for your event, please.

Tom Holland x reader, where Tom is a gentleman decides to treat his girl, his Queen! To a posh private restaurant, in New York City. Even buying her a fancy comfortable dress because Tom is something extra! They have a good time, Tom and you having flirty, banter with sweet pet names such as Darling.. (my fave) 😂

I fall to my knees at Darling, it’s my weakness but shh 🤫 it’s a secret 😁

Back to the request, they ofc can’t go somewhere without having people taking photos of them sadly, but you are use to it! Tom being such a sweet boyfriend protects you from the paparazzi. You go back to a cozy hotel, it’s so comfortable cuddling up in bed!

The next day you see Photos of you in the media with sweet comments about how Tom is such a gentleman, protecting and treating you! 🥺 you share with Tom smiling, as he is proud that you are his, and he is yours!

Also, can you please include them kissing too such as a make out session because Tom can’t keep his hands or lips off you.. just loving you for you all the time.

Thank you so much, i really appreciate all you write, say because you so sweet! I hope it isn’t too much 😅

Hi thank you for this request and congratulating me! Sorry it took so long!

The event is now closed, thank you everyone for participating!

Join my taglist here!

My Darling Queen: Tom Holland x Reader + SMAU

Summary: Tom take his girlfriend out for a fancy date night, going out of his way to ensure she has a great night.

Warnings: Suggestive, implied smut, making out, curse words. 18+ please given material

.

Y/n smiles as she applies her highlighter, still really excited for tonight.

Tom and y/n have been together for roughly two years now.

So they’ve gone on plenty of dates, both casual and posh.

However, Tom had been in New York for the last month filming and y/n finally now had the ability to fly out to join him.

Tonight was their first night back together in a month.

Most of the time their schedules would align really well to where they’d be able to travel with the other whenever needed for their jobs.

This time, Tom had to move up his start date and y/n’s work got in the way for a few weeks and they were missing each other as a result.

It was clear Tom was putting a lot of effort into this date tonight.

He always loved to spoil her, gift giving being a part of his love language.

This dress though was a big gift.

Well, their temporary NY apartment now that she made it out here.

Well, their temporary NY apartment now that she made it out here.

She hummed to herself as she did the next part of her makeup routine, daydreaming about seeing Tom tonight.

She couldn’t wait to see him, hug him, hold him, kiss him, etc.

Meanwhile, Tom buttoned his jacket and fixed his hair once more.

Nodding eagerly to himself, he had Harry and his body guard help him out to the car.

Harry offered to pick up the flowers Tom preordered for y/n so that he didn’t have to get out.

But Tom wanted to handle it himself, it felt more meaningful that way.

Tom put on a face mask to cover the lower half of his face and then tilted his head down to the ground as he walked to the florist.

“Good evening sir, may I help you?” The florist greeted.

“‘ello, yes I placed an order. It should be under Tom, no last name “ he says, recalling how during the conversation earlier this week with the store they offered to just use his generic first name.

“Ah, yes one moment” the florist nods, heading to the back.

Tom bites his lip and checks his phone, ensuring he’s not missed anything from y/n.

He can’t wait to see her tonight.

Let alone in the dress he knew she would love and look incredible in.

“Sir, these are a beautiful bouquet. I see you’ve prepaid, enjoy your night” the man says, handing Tom the flowers.

Thanking him, Tom double checks the flowers, ensuring y/N’s favorite flower looks health.

Pleased with how it turned out, he all but skips to the car.

“Alright mate, you said the limo would take you guys yes?” Harry asks as they arrive to the apartment.

“Yes, and we’ll be staying at the hotel tonight so you can come back whenever” Tom says, handing his driver a tip as he slides out of the car.

“Have fun, but not too much fun!” Harry teases as the door shuts behind Tom.

Tom laughs and rolls his eyes before making his way to the unit he’s staying in.

After knocking politely before unlocking the door, Tom smiles upon seeing y/n suitcase in the living room space.

“Darling? You here?” Tom calls out, fluffing the bouquet in his hands as he walks to the bathroom.

“Tommy?!” Y/n cheers, appearing in the hallway.

Tom’s lips part as he sees her appearance.

She hasn’t changed into the dress yet, so instead she was in his favorite skirt of her’s and a deep v neck blouse.

“I missed you!” She giggles, rushing to Tom.

Tom sets the bouquet down on the console table in the hall.

He opens his arms and locks his hand under her armpits, his thumbs resting on her collar bones, as he lifts her into the air above him.

Y/n keeps giggling and smiling down at Tom, making his heart swell.

Setting her down, he says “ I missed you too love, I didn't expect myself to miss you as much as l did for only a month”.

Y/n nods and pulls him closer to her.

Tom wraps his arms around her, “don’t ever stay away from me for so long again”.

"T, no matter where you are, where you go, where they take you...I will always find my way back to you. I promise” she says, her head on his shoulder.

“Can I kiss you?” Tom whispers, his grip on her desperate.

“Please” She responds, lifting her head off his shoulder.

Tom smirks and lowers his arms to the small of her back, tugging her to him until she’s pressed against him.

He tucks his chin to his chest to kiss her nose and get her to look up at him.

When she does he gives her a sultry wink before closing his eyes and hungrily presses his lips against her soft ones.

Y/n wraps her arms around his neck and Tom pulls her waist closer as his licks her bottom lip.

As her lips part, he slides his tongue in her mouth letting it tangle with her’s.

Tom moans tenderly as he grips her hips.

Y/n smiles as they reluctantly pull apart for air.

Not ready to let go of her body, Tom rests his forehead against her’s as he stares into her eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re back” Tom sighs.

“Me too” y/n smiles, “but I need to finish getting ready”.

Tom nods, unsurprised as he was about thirty minutes earlier than planned.

He may have rushed through his tasks for the day in order to see her.

“Need any help?” Tom asks, his hand trailing down her jaw.

“You’ll probably need to zip me when I’m done. I’ll have to retouch my makeup first though” she blushes.

Tom smirks as she turns around to finish getting ready.

Tom walks to the living room to wait, pausing when he sees the flowers.

He looks between the bathroom door and the flowers several times in consideration.

He decides just to hold them and wait in the hall.

Securing the dress over her shoulders and zipping it as much as she can, she fastens her heels and checks her lipstick once more.

Y/n smiles confidently to herself, he picked a very flattering dress for her.

“Okay, so, can you-” y/n says, stopping when she sees her boyfriend standing before her in a daze with her favorite flowers in his hands.

“Aaawe, Tommy! They’re beautiful!” She gushes, approaching him.

“Huh? What? Oh, uh, yeah” Tom laughs nervously, his eyes still trailing over her body.

“I know they’re not in season but I found a place that has them” he says, forcing himself to focus on her eyes like the gentleman he wants to be tonight.

She smiles brightly, “they’re stunning, I’m such a lucky girl you’ve always remembered my favorite flowers”.

“Anything for my queen” Tom says, handing them to her.

She lifts them to her nose to cover her blushing cheeks as she pretends to smell them.

Noticing her boyfriend still standing before her slack jawed, she smirks, “You're staring. I take it you like what you see?”.

“You…” Tom clears his throat, “you look…”.

Tom shakes his head and laughs at himself still getting flustered over her after two years, “You’re as beautiful as always darling”.

She blushes and sets the flowers on the counter, grateful Tom thought ahead and ordered them with a vase so they didn’t wilt while they went to dinner.

“Can you zip me?” Y/n laughs, the dress straps sliding down her arms.

Tom nods and gently grabs her waist to spin her around.

Tom reaches his hand down to where y/n left the zipper, just above her lower back.

He lets his fingers graze her skin as he pinches the zipper, causing a visible shiver to take over her body.

He smiles to himself, pleased at how responsive she still is to him.

He pulls the zipper up to her middle back, pausing to place a tender loving kiss on her bare shoulder.

“Tooomm” She whines, shaking her head.

Tom laughs and finishes zipping her dress and steps back.

Y/n spins in a circle one and Tom reaches out to steady her once she faces him again.

“You ready to go babe? Don’t want to be late” Tom asks, lifting her hand to his lips as he kisses her knuckles.

Y/n lets Tom’s lips linger for a moment before agreeing and letting him lead her outside.

“How was set?” Y/n asks, swinging their intertwined hands between them.

“It was good but no more work talk tonight” Tom says, squeezing her hand.

“Why not?” She asks as Tom props the door open for her with his free hand.

“Tonight is all about making you feel like the queen you are darling” Tom says, his cheeks flushing pink.

Y/n grins and tugs Tom to her as she passes through the apartment building door, “god I love you”.

“I love you too y/n y/m/n y/l/n” he responds.

“Are we taking the Honda?” Y/n asks, looking around for their car.

“Not tonight. Did you not just hear you’re getting treated like royalty tonight?” He teases.

“So-“ she pauses, seeing a gorgeous limousine pull in front of them.

“Tom, you didn’t” she whispers in shock.

“Mmm but I did dear” he chuckles, lifting her hand as he helps her step into the limo.

Tom laughs at y/N’s story about Tessa’s behavior after he left.

“Where are we eating? I’m starving” Y/n admits, changing the subject.

“Did you eat before your flight?” Tom asks worriedly.

Pressing her lips into a fine line, she shakes her head no, “I was running late”.

Tom sighs her smiles sweetly at her, “you still need to make time to eat”.

Y/n shrugs but laughs, signaling to him she knows.

“Le Bernardin, we should be there in only a few minutes” Tom promises, reaching forward towards the mini bar in the limo.

“But, these should hold you over darling” Tom smiles, bringing a tray of gourmet chocolate covered strawberries back to them.

“Oh my gosh these are amazing” She praises, covering her mouth as she finishes her first bite.

Tom laughs and presses a delicate kiss to her cheek.

“Anything for my queen” he muses.

"Mmm, you always smell amazing!" Y/n compliments, breathing in deeply as she leans into the right side of his body while his arm is over the back of her seat.

“Now, now, I’m not on the menu” Tom jokes, poking her nose.

Y/n blushes but hangs her head and pouts, “you’re not?”.

Tom has to look away as she flutters her eyelashes and stares up at him from her slouched position.

Composing himself, he leans over and leaves an open mouthed kiss on her neck, “you’re going to be the death of me darling”.

———Le Bernardin———

Y/n freezes part of the way out of the limo, one leg out, causing Tom to raise his left eyebrow as he keeps a hold of her hand in his palm.

Her eyes dance over his toned shoulders and the way his suit jacket is button making his chest more pronounced.

The lights from the outside of the restaurant causing a cascade of light on his devine facial features causing her to to lose her breath momentarily.

"I know you said you didn't want to be late, but you look amazing, and I'm trying not to kiss you senseless right now” she blurts, finally stepping out of the limo.

Tom lowers his head shyly and laughs softly.

He hooks his middle and ring finger under her chin, the ring on his pointer finger brush against her lower jaw.

She stills herself despite the iciness of his ring due to the crisp New York air around them.

Tom then clemently tilts her head up so he can see her glowing y/e/c eyes.

Y/n and Tom hold their lingering eye contact for what feels like eternity as she resists the urge to close the distance between them and kiss him.

Once Tom is finished scanning the details of her eyes, he runs his thumb across her bottom lip teasingly as his other fingers remain where they are.

His eyes flicker to her’s to ensure he has her attention before he turns his hand towards himself and presses a taunting kiss to his thumb that had been on her lip.

Tom hides his smirk as her eyes widen before glaring at him.

“Fine, be that way” y/n scoffs, abruptly stepping away and through the restaurant’s entrance.

Wordlessly, Tom uses his foot to prop the door open as he hastily reaches towards her.

He catches her wrist, breaking her stride and ending her departure.

He tenderly rubs his thumb from her wrist to her forearm and outwards in a sweeping motion.

Y/n turns towards him only once he tugs pleadingly on her wrist as his thumb returned to it’s starting place.

"You know you shouldn't tease me" she whispers, her voice wispier than normal.

Tom’s breath catches in his throat and y/n seems to notice as smirks.

"Somebody forgot their kiss” Tom remarks as he catches his breath.

“Someone lost their chance” y/n shrugs, stepping out of his grip on her wrist and closer to the reservation desk.

Tom sighs loudly and approaches the desk to ask for their table.

——— At their table at Le Bernardin———

"No, no, I’ve got it. I'll do it." Tom says, eagerly stepping in front of y/n as she attempts to pull out her chair.

“But, T-” she argues, her hand resting over his on the back of the chair.

“I said I'll do it." He smiles, sliding the chair out for her and helping her sit.

“Tom, did you reserve this whole place?” Y/n asks, noticing the glamorous restaurant is lit up but empty apart from their decorated table.

Tom bites his lip and nods, reaching across the table for her hand.

Before she can respond, their server approaches to take their drink order.

Tom orders their highest end champagne, asking for two glasses and then the remainder of the bottle brought out with it.

Y/n gasps as she finds the item on the menu and sees the price, “Tom, w-”

“Shh, a queen wants for nothing” he smiles, squeezing her hand.

Blushing, she shakes her head and mumbles “except a kiss”.

Tom laughs loudly and rolls his eyes, “I thought I missed my chance?”

“You did, but tonight’s about me” she teases, quoting him from earlier.

“That it is,” he agrees, standing up before kneeling beside her chair.

She tilts her head to the side as she watches him closely.

He signals her to lean down towards him, pleased as she complies.

When she’s close enough, Tom hooks his hand back under her chin and pulls her closer as he gives in and kisses her.

As she kisses him back, his hand slides up her jaw until his palm is pressed against her neck.

When they part for air, instead of giving Tom the pleasure of her gratitude, she decides to toy with him.

“You were choking me!"She scolds quietly.

“I thought you were into that” Tom blurts before loudly slapping his hand over his own mouth as his eyes widen.

Y/n’s face flashes red as she quietly laughs.

Scampering back to his seat, Tom bites his lip and lowers his hand; allowing her to see his face is even more red than her’s.

“I-I’m so sorry! I… whew okay, no more of that. Back to only behaving properly” Tom laughs nervously.

Smirking, she shakes her head, “Tom relax, you know I don’t mind you’re suggestive flirting”.

“I do. But-“ he pauses, letting the server finish their return to the table.

Once the glasses have been poured and they’ve ordered, the server leaves.

“But?” Y/n asks, lifting her glass slowly.

“But, a queen only dates a gentleman” Tom finishes.

“Mmm, not this queen” y/n winks, taking a sip of her champagne.

Tom runs a hand through the hair on the back of his upper neck, tonight’s going to be a long hard rough night for him.

"You're cute when you blush" y/n smiles, setting her glass back down.

———

"I notice when you stare at my lips, you know. You can just kiss me and get this awkward part out of the way." Y/n laughs, setting her napkin down.

Tom’s eyes flash to her’s and he shakes his head, “you’re too far away”.

Y/n hums and suddenly stands.

Tom watches in confusion as she moves her chair until it is pressed against his.

“Better?” She asks.

“Much” Tom smirks, pulling her in for a kiss, his hands cupping her face.

When they pull back, Tom cautiously grabs her plate and sets it down in front her.

Thanking him, she places her hand on his thigh as she resumes eating.

"I've never seen you squirm so much" y/n says, squeezing his twitching thigh under the table.

“I… can’t help it. I’m trying to but… I've been thinking about you all day" Tom mumbles, flexing his leg in hopes the muscles will block the tingling sensation of her hand.

"What’s the matter, love? You get nervous when I look at you like this?" Y/n asks, Tom resisting the urge to crumble at the bedroom eyes she’s giving him.

Tom gives himself a mental pep talk, reminding himself:

We’re in public.

This night is for her.

If she wants to tease you relentlessly, suck it up.

Just breathe.

"Stop looking at me seductively." He says, biting his lip aggressively.

“Tom that was my normal look, don’t be so paranoid” she laughs, but Tom swears he sees a mocking glint in her eyes.

"I love seeing you like this" she says casually, somehow managing to seductively take a bite of her dinner.

Tom’s insides are flipping unwaveringly as he makes a fist at his side in hopes it’ll clear his head.

"You're making it so hard to concentrate right now." He admits as she mindlessly drags her acrylic manicured fingernails up and down his thigh.

“Good, pay attention to me” she smirks.

"You're so dumb." He laughs, shaking his head at her comment.

“You love me” she giggles, shrugging.

Tom nods and kisses her cheek, “always my queen”.

———

"I want to kiss every inch of you” y/n says, her lips against his neck.

"Shut your mouth" he groans, his head tilted to the ceiling.

“I thought you liked it wide open Tommy?” she whispers, her hand roaming closer to his bulge.

Tom coughs and scoots back abruptly, his face a brighter red than her dress; prompting the wait staff to make their way to come check on them.

“Oops” y/n giggles, hiding her face in her hands at his outburst.

"Just play along, damn it. Please.” Tom begs, sitting back down as the staff approach.

“Hmm, please? Tom, you sound desperate love. What’s making you that way?” She whispers.

Tom fights a grin and playfully glares at her, “you know damn well that it’s you, darling”.

------

“I could stare at you forever” Tom blushes, grabbing y/N’s hand from his thigh to break the friction of her hand as she teasingly moves her hand to the more inner part of his thigh causing tightness in his dress pants. 

“Creep” y/n laughs, her cheeks betraying how cute she finds his compliment. 

Tom smiles, “did you have a good night my love?” 

She nods, “one thing could make it better though…”

Tom furrows his brows as he waits for her to express her desire. 

Instead of explaining herself verbally, she brings her free hand to his lap and her lips to his neck. 

Tom clenches his jaw in an attempt to stay silent as his eyes flutter shut at the sudden pleasurable contact. 

“Darling, you have got to stop being a tease. I can hardly resist you as is” Tom says breathlessly. 

“Who’s going to stop me?” She asks in between pressing open mouth kisses to his neck and jaw. 

“… that-… would… be me… actually” he shakingly responds, prying his eyes open. 

“Mmm, really?” She asks, her swollen lips smirking against his clean shaven jawline. 

“…no” Tom whimpers, a forceful tingle running course through his body. 

“No? You don’t want me to stop?” Y/n teases, flattening her palm and removing her lips. 

“God no” Tom blurts before he slaps a hand over his mouth. 

So much for being a gentleman. 

Y/n smirks, sitting up straight as she begins to raise the leg furthest from him. 

“I thought you were going to be a gentleman?” She smirks, her raised leg getting closer to him. 

“I can no longer be a gentleman if you keep this up” Tom whispers. 

“Mmm” she smiles, placing her far leg over his lap, sliding until she’s straddling his hips. 

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to” She jokes, Tom’s hands seizing her waist as she sways slightly at her movement. 

As she begins to bring her face closer to Tom’s, a sudden realization hits him causing him to gently press her away from him. 

Y/n frowns and Tom stifles a laugh before he focuses his attention on her eyes. 

“My queen, I believe you’ve had too much to drink” Tom says as he sees the glassy appearance of her normally shimmering eyes. 

“No” She argues, leaning back in his lap as she crosses her arms. 

Tom gasps and clasps his hands on her sides as she tilts backwards more than she intended. 

“You’re not dizzy?” Tom laughs. 

Shaking her head minimally, she sways in his grip. 

“Mmm clearly” he smirks. “Let’s get you home” 

“Finally” She says, kissing his lips. 

“Not for that my darling queen. Not tonight anyways” he argues. 

After some resistance, Tom manages to get y/n off his lap and get himself situated so he can stand. 

As he helps her stand up, he notices her wince. 

“My feet hurt” she whines before he has the chance to ask. 

Tom looks down at her heels and nods in understanding. 

He helps her sit back down and removes her heels. 

“Alright, that should be better. Our ride should be right outside “ Tom assures her, carrying her shoes as he helps her stand again. 

Y/n silently clutches onto Tom’s body as he guides them to the door. 

“Mr. Holland, Sir. We’re sorry, it seems some how people found out you were here “ the greeter says as he pays. 

Tom groans and instantly looks down at y/n before sighing. 

“Understood, thank you for the warning” He nods, his grip tightening on his girlfriend. 

Frowning, he presses his lips to the top of her hair, “alright love, just stay close okay? I’ll get you to the car safely”. 

She nods lazily, her eyes widening as she looks through the glass doors and sees the group of people waiting for them. 

Tom sighs in annoyance and holds her heels in one hand and her waist with the other as he leads them to the door. 

As they step through the first set of double doors, exposing them ever so slightly to the crisp New York air, y/n shivers. 

Tom promptly removes his arm and sets her shoes down before shrugging off his suit jacket. 

Due to her state, he helps her get her arms into the sleeves and buttons one of the buttons over her torso, “this way it doesn’t slip off”.

She grins at him appreciatively and kisses him as she forgets that people are watching. 

Tom smiles and blushes as he grabs her heels and pulls her to his side for her safety before opening the last set of doors. 

The moment the couple steps outside, the crowd surges and presses closer to them. 

Tom’s jaw clenches in anger this time and squeezes her hip tenderly to reassure her. 

“Change of plans, please stay behind me my darling queen” he whispers in her ear as he throws himself between her and the crowd of fans and paparazzi swarming them. 

Tom sighs as he notices the vans of the paparazzi blocked the limo from returning to the agreed upon location. 

He worked with the restaurant to ensure they called the driver (who had to park elsewhere upon dropping them off) when they were finishing so y/n wouldn’t need to wait. 

However, the limo is much farther away than he preferred. 

Tom glances back at her, smiling softly when she makes eye contact with him and tries to signal she’s okay. 

He turns and focuses back on getting her to the limousine safely. 

Tom was now regretting his decision to not bring security with them tonight. 

He wanted it to be just the two of them and be as normal as possible. 

But now he was the only one standing between the love of his life and the group of aggressive paparazzi and excessively eager fans. 

Tom grips her hand with his empty hand, his arm twisted behind him to ensure he doesn’t lose her.

His body becomes more rigid as the crowd gets louder and closer. 

“Please back up” Tom pleads. 

The group ignores him and begin to yell various things at them to get their attention. 

Tom knows better than to respond but can’t help his brain from responding internally. 

“Y/n!” Leave her alone. 

“Tom!” Not right now. 

“Over here” No

“Just one picture!” If we wanted to have our picture taken, we would’ve. 

“How was the date?” Seriously, you can tell it’s a date and yet you’re here hounding us?!

“Tom what’s wrong with your hair?” What?

“Y/n! Are you pregnant?” Excuse me?!

Tom fights the urge to respond but caves upon noticing y/n flinch behind him in response to the implication.

“It is none of your business” Tom growls, tugging her closer. 

“Omg!!! That sounds like a yes” the girl screams. 

“I knew she looked like it!” Another replies, making y/N’s steps falter. 

Tom freezes and looks at her only to see her staring down at her stomach in shock. 

Glaring back to the group, Tom raises his voice in a firm manner “no she does not. It isn’t your business, but no she’s not pregnant”.

“How you could even think she looks pregnant is beyond me. She looks just as drop dead gorgeous as she always does!” He growls. 

“Now, please let us part” he pleads, pressing through the huddle to get closer to their car. 

The group continues to shout at them and take photos but no one is idiotic enough to make another pregnancy comment or comment on her appearance. 

Tom sighs in relief as he slides he heels to his pinky and ring fingers while his pointer finger and thumb tug the limo door open. 

“Come here dear” he whispers, helping her step into the limousine and get seated. 

Once he is certain she’s in securely, he leans down to kiss her forehead before shutting the door. 

The limousine driver apologizes profusely once Tom has entered through the other door. 

Tom expresses he is aware it’s not the man’s fault before sliding the divider between them. 

He lets out a deep breath of air he was holding and smiles sadly over at her. 

“‘ey darling it’s alright, they're gone now... are you alright?” He asks, holding her to his chest. 

She nods against him slowly. 

Feeling something is off, he guides her head off his chest, “my girl, look at me; are you hurt at all?"

"No, I’m okay... are you okay?" She asks, stroking his face. 

He nods tightly, “are you sure you’re okay?”.

“It just hurts a bit is all, but-“ she whispers. 

“Where?!” He panics, pressing his back against the leather seats to see her better. 

“Where are you hurt? Please, show me where it hurts” he begs, his normally soft eyes now chaotic as they race over her body looking for harm. 

“Jus’ my head T, it’s a headache ‘s all” she slurs slightly, resting back on his chest. 

Tom deflates, glad she’s not injured but hating the fact the lights and yelling made her head hurt. 

“I'm so Sorry darling” Tom sighs, rubbing his head in irritation. 

“Not your fault Tommy” she says, snuggling closer. 

“Still. I promised a nice private night you could enjoy. I know how scary it can be dealing with such large groups. I should’ve had security for us, I’m sorry” he admits. 

"I knew you'd feel guilty but when I am near you, I finally know how it feels to breathe without worry, without caution. I just feel safe with you, I’m okay T. I promise” she says into his chest. 

“I'm so glad I just wanted to go have the night you deserved, cheesy as it may be, you're my queen and you deserved to have a good night” he frowns, stroking her head. 

“Tommy! You need to know every day I spend with you is the best day of my life” she says, squeezing his waist. 

Tom blushes and kisses the top of her hair in response. 

“Seriously. My only hope is that one day I can love myself as much as I love you and that you can love yourself as much as you love me” she adds, smiling and tilting her head to look at him. 

“Thank god because I forget every beautiful thing in the universe, the moment you smile” he blushes, holding her close. 

———

“Good evening Mr. Holland and Ms. Y/l/n, we are pleased to have you staying with us” the hotel receptionist greets as Tom helps y/n sit down on the extravagant lounge chair in the lobby. 

Tom smiles politely as he approaches the desk to check them in and offers a friendly greeting. 

“Here are your suite’s keys, and as discussed, there is a private elevator that will lead you straight to the Royal suite” the man explains, handing Tom a gold card. 

“Do you need help with any bags?” The bellman asks, pausing to stand by Tom. 

“No thank you, they should’ve already arrived” He says, knowing the arrangement be had with Harry to drop off y/N’s bag and Tom’s pre packed bag while they were at dinner. 

“He is correct Mr. Hughes, they were brought up prior to your shift. Is there anything else we can help you with tonight Mr. Holland?” The receptionist questions. 

Tom looks over at y/n who is patiently waiting and watching but looks tired. 

Tom smiles and shakes his head no, “thank you mates but I’ve got it from here”.

“OhmygoshTomitissopretty” y/n mumbles when they reach the top floor. 

“What?” He laughs, having no idea what she said. 

“It is so pretty” she says, slurring less and spacing her words more carefully. 

“You really like it?” Tom asks, guiding her inside more so the elevator can close and lock. 

“I love it Tommy! Thank you, you didn’t need-“ She begins but Tom kisses her to cut her off. 

“I’m glad you love it darling, it’s my pleasure” he whispers, unbuttoning his jacket she has on. 

“It looks like… like something out of a movie… or like a castle! look at the chandelier!” She gasps, staring at the blinding Diamond and gold chandelier hanging from the foyer of their suite. 

“I don’t know about a movie… but some royals have stayed here before” Tom laughs, a proud grin on his face. 

“What?! I’m standing where royalty was standing?!” Y/n squeaks, suddenly dropping to the floor in a kneeling position as she places her palm on the floor. 

Tom shakes his head and forces himself not to laugh, “yes darling, but you do know you yourself are royalty, so I don’t get the fuss”.

In all honesty, it was part of the reason Tom chose this particular hotel and this particular suite. 

“I’m not Royal, Tom, but oh my gosh does this make me feel like it” She giggles gleefully, standing up and skipping to the next room. 

Tom smiles to himself as he watches her sprint around the suite, the elegant red dress he bought her flowing endlessly as she does. 

Once she’s completed all but the bedroom, she rushes to where Tom was watching from the corner of the room.  

“Thank you T!” She smiles, kissing him softly. 

“Anything for you darling” Tom promises, kissing the back of her hand. 

“I’m not royalty Tommy” She laughs. 

“You are to me” He blushes, squeezing her hand. 

She bites her lip and grins at him, “there’s one more room!”

Her jaw drops as her gaze focuses on the enormous bed in the store Royal suite’s glamorous bedroom. 

“This is so pretty, I really feel like a queen!” She sighs blissfully. 

Tom grins widely and wraps his arms around her waist. 

“You know…” she whispers, turning to face him with her eyes seductively looking him over. 

“Hmm?” He asks, watching her eyes closely as his breath hitches. 

Before she can respond, she yawns and giggles at herself, bringing Tom’s focus back to her current state. 

He smiles and laughs, “let’s get you into some pajamas darling”.

“If you wanted to get me out of my pants, there are several ways to do that” y/n smirks as she lets Tom lead her to the bathroom. 

The night before last Tom picked up some silky satin pajamas for them he purchased and asked Harry to leave them out for him. 

Harry had joked about them not needing them, but Tom hoped he listened because if he hadn’t, it left them with nothing to wear to bed. 

Tom was already having a difficult night trying to behave himself around her, he certainly didn’t need any more temptations. 

Normally, he’d have no problem spending the night tangled in the sheets and each other’s arms. 

But he knew she was exhausted and at a minimum decently tipsy from the champagne tonight. 

“You’re not even wearing pants” tom teases, trying to change the direction of conversation. 

“Oh! You’re right” y/n chuckles, “so you have to get me into pants first to get me out of them”.

Tom laughs at her rambling but agrees so he can have an easier time getting her dressed. 

“Thank you T” y/n says while his fingers graze her low back as they finish undoing her zipper. 

As she turns to face him, she lets the dress slide down her to the floor. 

Tom struggles to maintain his composure as his eyes trace over her flawless body, realizing she was now bare before him. 

“Like what you see?” She flirts.

“You know I always do” Tom admits, trying to focus his eyes on her beautiful facial features instead of anywhere below her neck. 

Y/n smirks as she reaches for his dress shirt waistband, intentionally hovering her fingers a mere centimeter over his toned torso. 

Tom digs his fingers into the palm of his hand as he tries not to quiver under her amorous touch, the desire for more contact fighting against him. 

“God I missed you” she whispers, her lips against his neck after she’s pulled his shirt off. 

“N-not tonight love” Tom says, trying to be firm. 

“Oh…” she steps back, her eyes darting to the ground that is now between them. 

“Sorry” she mumbles, grabbing her suitcase from the corner so she can get dressed. 

“No, darling, you do not need to be sorry, not for that, ever” Tom rushes, trailing after her. 

“I just… I thought you’d miss me like that too” she whispers, stepping into a pair of y/f/c panties before him. 

Tom forces a swallow as he watches her toned arse bounce slightly at her abnormally unbalanced stance and shifts his eyes to the wall, “believe me… I do. But love you’re not sober enough right now”.

“I’m sober Tom” she pouts, swaying as she spins to face him. 

Tom laughs, “proving my point darling”. 

He reaches for her personalized pajama top on the counter and secures it on her as he tries not to stare at her exposed breasts. 

“There,” Tom smiles, grabbing his set of pajamas. 

“I’m sorry” y/n says, sitting down on the bathtub rim. 

“What? Love, I told you-“ Tom argues, facing her as he throws his shirt on quickly. 

“No.., for drinking too much” she corrects, frowning at her long legs stretched out before her. 

“Mmm, you don’t need to be sorry for that either. You don’t over do it love, I just want to be on the safe side” he responds, lowering his dress pants. 

Y/n smiles softly and nods, her tired gaze still on her lap. 

“Okay. Thank you for always looking out for me Tommy and treating me so well” she says, in awe at how protective he’s being even regards to himself after they’ve been together for so long already. 

“Always, you’re my queen and you’re going to be treated as such” he blushes, feeling proud of himself. 

After Tom helps her into the oversized bed, he gets in next to her, his arm reaching over to ensure she is tucked in. 

“We can still cuddle right?” Y/n asks, giving Tom a pleading look. 

Tom chuckles, “yes darling, we can always cuddle”.

She grins widely and promptly squishes herself against him. 

When y/n yawns for the third time in less than five minutes, Tom turns the already dimmed light off completely. 

“Rest my dear, we can finish catching up tomorrow” he promises, kissing her forehead. 

Y/n smiles against his collarbone and nods, “thank you again for tonight Tom. Seriously, so immensely thankful”.

“You’re very welcome my queen, now close your eyes” Tom says, adamantly watching in the dark  to ensure her eyelids close. 

Once he feels she’s actually asleep, he kisses the top of her head once more before letting himself drift off to sleep. 

———— 

“This is ungodly good” y/n praises, continuing to eat the breakfast room service delivered this morning. 

Tom nods his head in agreement, pleased the hotel’s kitchen did such a great job making her favorite breakfast food. 

“And you,” she says, reaching across the table to him, “are ungodly sweet and so cute”.

Tom blushes and hides behind his napkin. 

“Mmmnmm no, I need to see those dimples” she scolds, tearing the napkin from his hands. 

———

“I’m going to shower love” Tom says, standing up once she’s finished her story. 

“They have a spa that I made us some reservations for” he adds. 

“Oh?” Y/n smiles. 

“I’ll be fast, then we can go. I just really need to fix this hair” Tom says, pulling at his messy head. 

Y/n giggles and nods, smiling to himself as she watches him slink to the giant bathroom. 

After taking countless photos of the incredible suite Tom booked for them for her memories, she decides to check Twitter. 

Her eyes widen as she notices fans started posting about her evening last night. 

Of course there are some talking about the pregnancy comment that was made. 

Rolling her eyes, she keeps scrolling only to see someone asking why she and Tom are trending. 

Not realizing this and not understanding herself, she looks at the thread. 

A huge smile takes over her confused expression as she reads the fans raving about Tom and how he treated her. 

She screenshots her favorite thread and walks to the bathroom to find Tom. 

“Tommy?” She calls out, stepping into the foggy bathroom. 

“Darling, everything alright?” He questions, barely having wrapped a towel around his lower half. 

“Did you tell the fans to call me a queen?” She asks, pressing her hands on his chiseled and damp chest. 

“No” He says, his confusion causes it to come out as a question. 

“Look” She smiles proudly at her boyfriend, handing him her phone with the screenshot loaded. 

Tom blushes as he reads the comments and then glances back up at y/n. 

“I’m sorry they interrupted us, but at least they know you’re my queen” he smirks. 

Y/n laughs, “and you’re my king Mr. Holland”.

“Is it bad to say that someday I want to call you Mrs. Holland?” Tom blurts, his hands on her waist. 

Eyes wide, she grins and shakes her head, “no, I love the sound of that, even more than being your queen”.

“Mmm you’d still be my queen though” He smiles, hungrily kissing her jaw. 

“I really did miss you” he admits, his lips still on her skin. 

“Prove it” she jokes, playing with his wet hair. 

“You’re going to be the death of me” Tom sighs, his tongue dragging across her sweet spot causing her to moan quietly. 

“You can be louder than that” Tom scolds, pursing his lips to create suction in the same spot on her neck as his cold hands lower to her waist. 

“You have… to earn… it” she says breathlessly, her chest shaking. 

Up for the challenge, Tom snakes his fingertips under her top and teasingly up her stomach. 

Once she arches slightly at his touch, Tom removes his hands and scoops her up in his arms. 

“Fuuck I love your arms” she compliments, her soft fingers running up his biceps as he carries her to the nearest room. 

Tom lays her down on the sofa, straddling her as he brings his hands back to her supple body. 

“Tom, I can’t feel your arms when you do that” y/n whines causing Tom to laugh against her as his lips move lower on her shoulder. 

Giving in, she dips her head and begins peppering needy kisses along his arms instead now that they’re in a position that pinning her’s down. 

Y/N’s eyes squeeze shut as he tilts her head back over the arm of the couch, his hand supporting it. 

“Don’t ever” Tom gasps, only needing one hand as he begins ripping the buttons off her pajama top in a fiery rush to get it out of his way. 

“Ever” he continues, his crooked nose sliding down the space between her exposed breasts.

“Let me be without you for that long again” his touseled hair running over her chest as he presses a delicate kiss to her ribs. 

His other hand wraps under her body, pulling her to him by her waist. 

The intensity of the situation and the warmth created by the presence of his pouted lips kissing anywhere but her lips leaves y/n limp in his arms as she clears her mind of anything but this moment. 

Tom grips her firmly, more than pleased to have her back in his arms and no longer forcing himself to keep his hands off her. 

Y/n forces a nod in agreement, unable to speak. 

“Promise?” Tom pleads, his breath warm against her. 

She composes herself, tugging on Tom’s hair to get him to lean back. 

Tom lets out a craving whine at the sensation, his ebony brown eyes meeting her’s as they reopen. 

Noticing the aching behind his intense gaze, she smirks, bringing her face closer to his in a tauntingly slow manner. 

“Promise” She whispers, her plump lips just out of reach of his.

Tom’s eyes flicker a darker shade of brown as closes the gap between their lips eagerly. 

Tom’s lips are not acting in his usual loving and gentle way. 

Instead, y/n feels this longing desire, a desperation, behind them as if he was practically starving without her touch. 

She attempts to exhibit just as much intensity behind her kiss as she slides her fingers down his athletic torso. 

It’s only when her long fingers reach the towel that has loosened around his hips that he parts his lips from her’s as he gasps. 

“How interested in the spa are you?” He asks, his British accent thickening the air around them. 

“Now? Not at all” She responds, flirtatiously slipping a finger under his towel at the edge of his defined v-line. 

“Good” he chokes out, his lips once again diving for her neck.  

“Because I’m going to worship you and your body until you see yourself as the queen you are” He smirks, one hand lowering to squeeze her arse as she arches off the couch below them when he begins sucking on her throat. 

“I hope you’re up for a long night my darling” he whispers, a clear infatuation behind his deep tone. 

———

Tag list: @galaxyholland @spideysbae  @mcushvft @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @justapurrcat @users09

Shoutout to: @creativepromptsforwriting for some of the prompts used

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tommy baby #my writing #requests #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic #fic recs #tom holland smut #Tom holland smau

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | 42. the big day.

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. themes relating to abuse of power/authority and immoral interrogation tactics including SA (with brief depictions.) evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

It’s now been a week since solidifying our moving plans, and the past seven days have been hectic, to say the least. Between various store runs, trips back and forth between the tower and the apartment, painting walls, building furniture, decorating, and all the rest, it sort of feels like I’ve barely had a chance to catch my breath. It’s been good, though. Building a place for Willa and I to truly begin our lives together as a family has been full of excitement and anticipation, and I can’t wait to show her the home I’ve worked so hard to create for the both of us.

“I know I’ve probably said this a thousand times already, but we’re really gonna miss having you here,” Wanda sighs softly to me as I enjoy my last cup of coffee in the tower’s kitchen. Walking up to me, the girl wraps an arm around my shoulder; with almost heavy limbs, I hug her back, a bittersweet feeling rising in my chest.

“We’ll come back and visit plenty, I promise,” I tell her as she pulls away. The teen’s wide eyes look up into mine, and I know my words do little to ease her heartache. “And you can come stay with us, too,” I remind her, “any time you want, kiddo. We’ve got a bed in the spare room for you and Pete, each.”

“I think this is going to be really good for her,” Wanda tells me seriously, shifting the topic of discussion slightly. I nod, relieved to hear that she thinks so. “The transition may take a while, but she deserves a home. A real home, like what you’ve made for her.”

“Hey, glad you didn’t take off before I got the chance to say goodbye,” a new voice calls from the entrance to the hallway. Clint walks over to where Wanda and I are standing, an unusual hint of sadness hidden in his expression.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I assure him casually as he gives me a side-hug, patting my back over my shoulder. “Gonna miss you, pal,” I admit sincerely.

“Yeah, well, you and Buck better not party too hard over there,” he jokes back. “You gotta bring all the fun over here when you come visit.”

“Which will be often!” Wanda chimes in, and I smile, nodding at her. The elevator bell rings from across the room and the two metal doors slide open to reveal Natasha, Bruce, and Thor.

“Captain! Your big day has arrived,” Thor’s strong voice booms through his smile as the trio walk over to join the rest of us in the kitchen. “A grand new adventure awaits you and the little one. I must admit, it’s sad to see you go.”

Nat’s eyes catch mine, and in the faint streaks of light shining down on the quiet woman’s face, I think I can see a thin line of tears forming. I set down my coffee mug on the counter, pulling my friend into a hug. She squeezes me tight and whispers in my ear, only for me to hear, “This place is really gonna suck without you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Nat,” I tell her gently. She smiles at me, her happiness for me and Willa shining through her grief. Looking up at the rest of my friends, a question pops into my head. “Where’s Tony?” I ask, noticing he’s the only one missing besides Peter, who I know is playing with Willa in her room.

“Oh- right. Tony, uh… he left, actually. Went out for the day,” Bruce stutters me, catching me by surprise. “Early this morning. I don’t think he could handle the… the goodbye,” he finishes. The news hits surprisingly hard, even though the two of us haven’t talked at all since I announced that Willa and I would be moving. I don’t know what I expected our farewell to look like, but I was at least counting on it happening. “I’m sorry Cap,” Bruce adds, sensing my disappointment.

“That’s alright,” I manage to say after a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. “I get it; goodbyes are tough.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Nat shakes her head.

“He should be here,” Wanda adds softly, a look of disappointment falling over her face. An uncomfortable hush falls over the group as I sigh, not sure what to say.

After several more moments of complete silence, Clint clears his throat, offering an attempt to lighten the mood. “Well, I can’t stand the thought of either of you being away for too long, so… how about you join us for dinner sometime next week?” he offers. The others nod and smile at this suggestion in agreement.

“Sure thing,” I chuckle, trying to relax back into the conversation. “I’m sure Willa and Peter will be happy to play again so soon, too.” At the mention of the kids, the looks around the group instantly turn to saddened smiles full of sympathy.

“I honestly think this is gonna be the hardest on Pete,” Bruce admits, and the rest seem to agree with him. “He loves Willa more than anything.”

“She loves him, too. A whole lot. I’ll have to talk to him about planning a slumber party or something soon,” I reply.

“Well, Cap, we should probably let you get things rolling with Willa,” Nat says sadly. I nod, taking a deep breath through my nose. I’ve already discussed with the group that I’d like to leave with the little girl in private, just for the sake of not overwhelming her with goodbyes. That’s why throughout the morning, everyone has taken a moment to go see her and say farewell. What Nat means now is that everyone should retire to their rooms to give us the privacy of departing independently.

“You’re probably right. Thank you guys, for everything,” I nod, looking around and connecting gazes with each member of my wonderful group of friends. “Willa and I both love and appreciate you all very much. And we look forward to seeing you again soon.”

“We love you, Cap,” Wanda whispers softly, a tear rolling down her cheek. And without another word, they all turn and slowly begin to walk away, disappearing into the hallway.

Taking a moment to rest in the quiet, I glance down at my coffee mug, pouring out the rest down the drain before rinsing it and placing it in the dishwasher. As I rise back up from bending over, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window, and what I see makes me smile. All of my life, I’ve wondered who I was. What sort of purpose I had. What I was made for. Before, and even after the serum, I would look at myself in mirrors and reflections and not like what I saw. I would see a lost man, forever searching for his identity. I never became that perfect soldier I always dreamt of being, and after that, I wasn’t sure there was a place in the world for me at all.

But now, through the window, I see someone new. Willa’s dad. And in my fleeting moment of reflection, I realize something very important: with a title like that, I couldn’t be more satisfied or proud of what my life has turned out to be.

“You got this,” I whisper to myself, to that man in the reflection. And deep within myself, for maybe the first time in my life, I truly believe it.

After lingering for a few more moments, I finally decide that I’m ready. Exiting the kitchen space, I make my way over to the hallway, taking the familiar walk down the long row of doors until I reach the very last one on the left. At this point, everything has been moved into the apartment. I didn’t want to worry about carrying any bags or boxes at this stage, considering the fact that this could very well be quite a difficult time for Willa. Though she’s excited, I know the change has also sparked some anxiety within her, and I want to be able to give my full attention to making the process as comfortable as possible for her.

Leaning an ear against the door, I expect to catch some laughter or chatter. But to my surprise, I’m only met with silence. Knocking gently against the solid wood, I twist the knob and push the door open; the sight before me shatters my heart into a million pieces.

On top of Willa’s plush yellow comforter, Peter sits quietly, cradling the little girl in his arms. Tears are running down both of their faces, and the child’s hands are clinging to the teen’s grey t-shirt tightly, knuckles white. Upon my entrance, Peter glances up at me, an indescribable amount of pain written all over his face. He turns his head back down to face Willa, brushing her messy brown hair back behind her ear. “I promise, Willa, I-I promise,” the boy tries, desperation dripping from his words. “He’s not bringing you to a lab… it’s an apartment, remember? It’s just like a house… Cap would never bring you b-back to a place like that, ever.”

“Hey, hey- what’s going on, you guys?” I hum in concern, bending down while approaching the two at the side of the bed. At first, when I saw Peter and Willa crying together, I just figured they were having a hard time saying goodbye. But after hearing what Peter’s trying to convince the little girl of, my worries go much beyond simple separation anxiety.

Reaching out a gentle hand, I carefully set it on Willa’s shoulder; in response, the frightened thing cowers under my touch, curling herself into her friend’s arms. While I was expecting a certain level of fear from Willa, I must admit, I wasn’t anticipating this strong of a reaction. Looking back over this morning, I now regret not spending more time with her up until this point. She’s just been clinging to Peter, which I didn’t think anything of. But now I’m starting to see that maybe she was needing more of my attention and care all along.

“Willa, honey, what’s wrong? What’s all this about a lab? There’s no lab, sweetheart. We’re going home today, remember? Today’s the day I’m taking you home,” I coo, hoping to ease the little one’s fears.

“P-please,” she whimpers into Peter’s shirt, her soft voice muffled by the light grey fabric. “No lab, don’t take me back, please.” My heart breaks at her fears; I had no idea she was thinking like this.

“No one’s bringing you back, Willa-bug. You and I are going to go live in our own house, sweetie, that’s all. A nice house all to ourselves, with a kitchen, and a living room, and lots of space to play. There’s no lab, doll,” I try, but my words seem to be doing little to help.

“Y-yeah, it’s just a house, Wil,” Peter adds, running his finger through her hair. “Steve and some of the others spent this whole week working on it. I bet you guys are really gonna like living there,” he encourages. But no matter what the boy and I say, I worry there may be no way to prove anything to Willa. Her fears are just so deep-rooted; proving them wrong might be the only true way to eliminate them.

“Do you wanna see some pictures?” I ask, pulling out my phone. While the original plan was to keep everything a surprise for the grand reveal, clearly the more important issue at hand is convincing the child of her safety. Quickly scanning my thumb, I open up my gallery, tapping on the first photo I see. “Look Willa, here’s the front of it. The building’s a nice light blue color. We have our own front door, and a little balcony, too,” I describe. Willa keeps her head buried into Peter’s chest, but he gently pulls her away, trying to get her to look. At this, she struggles against him, craving the shield of his embrace.

“Look Willa, there’s a flower box and everything. You guys can have a little garden in there,” Peter comments; eventually, the child’s eyes catch a glimpse of the screen, and she pauses in her struggle, peering warily over at the image.

“That’s right, we do have a flower box. We could go to the farmer’s market and look for some flowers this week; how does that sound?” I offer gently. “I know Bucky goes often; we can have him show us around.” Willa doesn’t respond, but her posture has slightly relaxed, which is as good a sign as any. I slide across the screen to the next picture, continuing, “And here’s the living room, right inside the front door. See? We have a nice big couch where we can sit and watch Paw Patrol.” Willa’s eyes remain on the image, and I swipe again. “Here’s the kitchen; we have lots of room to cook and bake. The cabinets used to be dark, but we painted them white. I like them a lot better now; they match the dining table.” The little girl looks up at me, then back down at the screen.

“N-not a lab?” she asks warily.

“No, sweetheart. It’s a home. Our home,” I promise her. Seeming a little bit more comfortable with the idea now, she turns and looks up at Peter.

“And I’ll come see you soon, okay?” he tells her. A new wave of sadness washes over her face at this. “A-and we can video call whenever you want, just like Steve showed you. On our little TV’s; all you gotta do is ask.”

“Clint already invited us over for dinner next week,” I tell the pair with a slight chuckle. “So it won’t be too long before you see each other again.” Willa reaches a tiny hand up and places it on Peter’s cheek, her big green eyes filled with tears.

“Best f'iends forever,” she tells him quietly.

“Best friends forever,” Peter repeats back, placing a hand over hers. “I love you, Wil. Very much. I’ll see you again soon.” Slowly, their hands fall away, and Peter turns back to me, tears built up in his eyes as he holds out the little girl to me. I welcome her into my embrace, and the teen stands up from the bed, taking one last glance at us as he swallows a lump down his throat. “Steve,” his voice comes out low. Connecting my gaze with his, I nod. “Please, t-take care of her for me, okay?”

Heart swelling at his simple request, I nod again, vowing, “I promise, Peter. She’s safe with me.”

Nodding, a tear slips down the precious boy’s cheek as he mumbles a final farewell before turning and heading out the door, dragging his feet beneath him. Willa’s eyes stay lingering where he disappeared long after he’s gone.

Clearing my throat, I attempt to regain the little girl’s attention. “Okay, Willa-bug. Should we get going, then?” I ask, glancing around her old room one last time to make sure she didn’t forget anything. The child settles silently against my chest as I rise to my feet, holding her close. Taking a deep breath, I follow the path of the teen who’s now disappeared, exiting the room and beginning the long trek back down the hallway. Willa shakes slightly against me as we walk through the living space one last time, over to the elevator where I press the button and we wait.

“Walking there?” her little voice asks quietly.

“No, not walking,” I say with a slight laugh. “We’re driving there.” I’m just now realizing it, but this is the first time since the airport that Willa’s been in a car. And, both the airport trip and the trip to the safe-house were made without a car-seat available, meaning this is the first time she’ll be taking a proper car ride.

“Driving?” the small child asks curiously.

“Yep. In a car,” I tell her, just as the elevator arrives and the doors slide open before us. Stepping in, I press the button for B1, and the doors close back up again as we begin to drift downward. The ride is silent, only lasting a few minutes, and before I know it we’ve stepped out into the parking garage, surrounded by vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Still holding Willa warmly against me, I make my way down the long row of cars until I reach one of the last few parking spaces at the end, where my own black car is parked.

“Car,” Willa says, pointing.

“Mhmm. This is my car,” I inform her, hitting the button on my key in my pocket to unlock the doors. Carrying Willa over to the back door on the driver’s side, I open it up to reveal the car-seat readily positioned and secured into place. Just as I’m about to place the little girl down in it, though, she begins to shake feverishly in my arms, big tears starting to roll down her cheeks. “Hey, hey-” I fuss quickly, bouncing her lightly against me. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? What’re the tears for?”

“P-please, no,” she begs, her eyes fixated on the car-seat.

“What- is it the car-seat? It’s okay, Willa, this is just to keep you safe while I’m driving,” I explain to her gently.

“Please, wait- n-no,” she whimpers. Bouncing the girl in my arms, my mind starts to race, the amount of distress she’s showing once again setting off alarms in my brain.

“What is it, sweetie? What’s so scary about it?” I ask patiently.

“Please n-not tie me down, please n-no,” she rambles, and finally all the pieces fall together in my head. At first, I thought the issue was that it was just a strange-looking seat, something she might not recognize, but now that she’s mentioned the restraints, her anxiety makes a lot more sense.

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. These are just seat-belts; they keep us safe while the car’s moving. I wear one, too, while I’m driving,” I tell her as I lift the padded straps on the plastic seat, trying to show her that there’s nothing to fear. “Remember we wore them in the jet with Bucky? No one’s tying you down, doll. You’re okay.”

As I continue to hum and coo comfortingly to her, I reach out and settle her down into the seat, my heart aching as she squirms against me. I slide her arms through the shoulder straps, reaching down and finding the buckle between her legs. “P-please,” Willa continues to sob, “p-please, no- d-don’t hurt me.”

“Shhh sweetheart,” I soothe gently, “you’re okay; I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe, Willa-bug. Always safe with me.” Finishing up the clips, I finally pull my hands away, giving the little girl a moment to adjust to the seat. Her big green eyes stare fearfully up at mine, still flooded with tears; reaching out, I run a hand over her hair gently. “See? Not scary,” I coo.

But instead of repeating it back, the child only squeezes her eyes shut, whimpering out another frightened “please.” My hand trails down and brushes softly against her cheek, but before I can say anything more to try to comfort her, a familiar red glow begins to rise up across her tear-soaked skin.

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#faad #faad: the big day #eun's writing #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #hurt/comfort #steve rogers x child!oc #dad!steve rogers #the avengers #avengers fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction

[payservewomen]

Yesterday was a painful one….I’m off work Sun-Mon(todays tuesday) and was gonna go 2the $ store, and check goodwill for a shoe rack…But then I opened twitter😔

Goddess Aurora James tweeted something, and ofc that did it! Was around 12noon, maybe late as 2pm, and I began playing with my “Mr Winky”(Ex fiancée, Emma used to call it that; painful breakup, good 2remind myself 2b humiliated) and next thing I know, it’s damn near 8pm!

I’m broke af right now…last i checked, had $15 in the bank, so that means I can’t get any interaction with anyone who matters(dommes/women in general, even Hung Alphas) And that really got me desperate…..I crave attention soooo much….and when you’re a pathetic failure, a beta loser, well, only logical attention is negative ofc.

Oh! But the “wall of shame” girl DMed me, telling me it was time for her weekly wall of shame that she posts on twitter….I’ve been in a few of them, but it’s not too humiliating tbh, she edits the photos, and doesn’t show cocknballs…but my face is showing! I do wish that i’d stop tempting fate to expose myself as the perverted loser freak that I am! I sent her a link to a shared folder on google photos, and loaded that folder with tons n tons of very humiliating pics…dunno if she used any, but then i went to a different twitter account, same one I’d posted to last week, when I went to the store in running shorts(tiny ones with slits up the sides! But i’m glad i found these; they’re actually men’s legit running shorts! even tho I’m only ever gonna wear them cuz i’m a perv, desperate to show off my gross body n be laughed at, it’s better cuz I can act like i’m normal, and just exercising)

But this time….SMH, i posted the link to the folder…..the cover photo of it was from when Natti Banks made me crack eggs all over my dirty bedroom floor…then slurp them up, spit it back into my hands, and rub it all over my face. Then humped my hand for a couple hours while the egg dried, oh and this was AFTER i’d taken a shower!

I tried cleaning it all off, but even the next day, kept finding crusty bits of egg on my face etc

I can’t believe how many beyond embarrassing photos i put in that folder! I’ve exposed myself before of course, but many of these pics had my FACE! And plenty of them….so any kind of lies or explanation to someone who knows me….wouldn’t even be slightly believable.

Reminds me of…last year at some point, when I’d occasionally talk to “Riya Payel” To this day, still THEE goddess I worship above all others….Well, tough to say really, I prob do worship Aurora more…..and hopefully gonna see her this weekend! Omfg i cannot wait!

She’d tweeted about how she “still wanna jump a sub with my friends” 🥵🥵

Fuck I hope they do that! Maybe tell her where I’ll be at a certain time(or she tells me where imma be) and not a particular time and place, so that it’s more of a legit “getting jumped” kinda thing!🥵

Anyway! Back to Riya….the only one who’s absolutely, definitely without question, sadistic. When texting with her, I could actually tell when she’d orgasm! Could even sense a teeny tiny lil bit of guilt, which, if you’d seen what she’s said and done, you’d find hard to believe!

She was always very clear- “I want to destroy you. I want to leave you with nothing, broken, no self esteem, no self worth, no money…I genuinely hope to make you homeless and ruin your life”

Isn’t an exact quote, but she’s def said all that!

Many many findommes on twitter will say this shit, but their actions don’t match their words. But riya? If anything, her actions are somehow worse than her words!

I still cannot truly comprehend how any human could have such venom and hatred in them….(well tbh, i’m almost positive she’s been abused; sexually or otherwise) and whew, ngl, it’s not easy to think about my experiences with God Riya😔

Reminds me just how fucked up I am, mentally/emotionally and ofc sexually. When Riya blackmailed me, she did it 100% without my consent. She knew how much money I had, but since cash app allows you to keep sending, she made me send $18 to her, over and over and over and over…..At a certain point, we both knew that every single send would cost me the $18 PLUS $31 overdraft fee!

She loved that…that’s why it was only the low $18 send!

Last I saw, Riya’s bank account was close to $500k…yes, half a million!

She was also always very clear about the fact that any amount of money that my broke ass could send, wouldn’t even be noticeable to her……Most dommes say that, but with many, it’s quite clear that’s not true…..But riya? Genuine sadism. She’s every pathetic beta loser jerkoff/findom/humiliation addicts dream!

She broke me so badly….I prob sent her a hundred different voice memos…at a certain point, i got serious like “Hey, I understand that maybe i’ve implied that i’m ok with noncon blackmail, but please know, at this point, I’m not ok with what’s happening. I say this with all due respect. Please understand that I sincerely mean every word i’m saying. This has gone way too far….I’m not blaming you, and ofc will not report you or any shit like that….It’s just that well, I’m in serious financial and mental/emotional trouble right now….I’ve said “I’m gonna kill myself” many many times since seeing those photos on my employers FB and IG…I understand that you get off on causing me pain, and I promise that I’ll always be a punching bag for you…but please, I’m scaring myself rn, i’ve never felt like this and I truly terrified of what may happen…I’m coming to you, as one human being to another….I’m reaching out to you, asking, from the bottom of my heart, please help me”

Is essentially what I’d said, many times in various ways…..at this point, there was no longer any reference to anything sexual on my part….This was far beyond that….she took me to another level of self hatred, and my god, I can’t even describe the feeling of such loathing one’s self.

I even began talking to her about the idea of quenching her thirst for sadism in person!

She seemed receptive to it, which ugh, ngl, was exciting to me! She’d never seemed open to it in the past, probably cuz she’s had sooooo many twitter, sextpanther, etc accounts banned…I think eventually every site decided to permanently ban her, considering they must’ve gotten so many complaints from ruined losers. They’d contact her thinking of “blackmail fetish” or even just findom….since sooooo many dommes on twitter say all the same shit that she says, they figured they were safe🙄

Not only does Riya love inflicting real pain, but she’s even said that she’s addicted to it!

Imho, after following her for so long….she definitely means that…I’d imagine it’s even been problematic for her life!

It’s gotta be one hell of a rush! I know it was on my side of things, having myself posted, naked, on my employers social media accounts….being told the pics will be taken down….after i pay $100 for each one….Ofc she knew i not only had no money, but was already very negative!

So, she demanded I open up accounts on apps like Dave, Bridget etc..I began to make one and she got impatient…then simply asked for the info she needed to do it herself….I might’ve hesitated once(or prob just didn’t see her message) and she wasn’t having it, and posted more on my employers IG, along with asking “is this an employee of yours?” With my full legal name. I can’t remember the exact order of things, but suffice it to say, she taught me real quick that she’s in charge, and I’d better comply…So I kept getting text messages from the various creditors, and she expected the pin numbers IMMEDIATELY, which ofc she got…..Also she ofc had all my debit card info, and then i began seeing transactions come through my account somehow! When it had no money whatsoever! How’s that even possible?! site was something like “transact”🤷‍♂️

I was shocked that i was able to get her some more money on Dave or something, but only like $80…she did much better, getting another couple hundred somehow….

Ugh, my dick was rock hard a minute ago….point is- this bullshit still turns me on far more than anything else ever will😔

Now that i’ve leaned into it so much, and turned it into a legitimate addiction, I can’t see how i’ll ever have normal sex, ever again😔 Or hell, ANY sex really! It’d be one thing if i knew a dominant woman irl….but no domme wants to try and actually date a sub, lol, can you imagine?!

I always tell myself “all i’ve gotta do is not jerk off so much…take just a week off, and I’ll def get nice and hard!” Maybe that’s true….but first off, I can’t go 2 days without fucking my hand, usually for hours n hours n hours….Edging ofc…the few times i have tried to cum in a normal amount of time? It’s not even a legit orgasm! Even my body knows i’m a pathetic loser who doesn’t deserve pleasure.

I’m trying to step back for a moment right now, and really take this all in….I need to fully comprehend what i’ve turned my life into…..I read tweets everyday from many dommes saying “this isn’t a phase. You’re a pathetic loser; your brain is too fucked up, you’ll never recover….” and i’m starting to think it’s true😔

I know that many dommes really don’t have such evil agendas….they’re just saying what they need to say to make tons of cash…I respect that, but my god, I often wonder if they know the damage they’re doing!

Many of them definitely do…you could debate whether or not that makes them a sadist or evil, but ehhh, they’re simply doing what many of us freaks beg them to do!

Many subs get the post nut clarity and get angry, start insulting dommes etc…so they’re familiar with how shitty most men are….

Ooops i didn’t mean to make this sooo long…..oh well

[dreamertrilogys]

saying your names, richard siken / nice2knou, all time low / @pragmaticam / the loneliest sweet potato, sabrina benaim / invisible fish, joy harjo / lost in the supermarket, the clash / the glass essay, anne carson / you are jeff, richard siken / @retropopcult / hard feelings/loveless, lorde / the book of delights, ross gay / bag of bones, mitski / boot theory, richard siken / @th3-n30n-d3m0n​ / a supermarket in california, allen ginsberg / source unknown / cynicism at a supermarket, hedonic nihilist / punisher, phoebe bridgers / @suffer-rosa​ / @inthefields / grey tickles, black pressure, john grant / @elijahreblogs​ / @itsmieille / shopping for yesterday, adrian wait / @alexsiple / perfection, and this your living kiss / love in the supermarket, bardo / my north market, nate pentz / supermarket blues, bobby gross / loneliness in supermarkets, mateuš conrad / the raven cycle, maggie stiefvater

[ID: image 1: "I'm saying your name in the grocery store"

image 2: "We always say that we'll keep in touch / Nobody does, but it don't matter much / One last call at the corner store"

image 3: a comic panel of a woman dricing her car, saying "I'VE GOT A TANK FULL OF GAS AND A HEAD FULL OF DREAMS. TIME TO GO TO THE GROCERY STORE FOR NO REASON."

image 4: "So, I'm at the grocery store because I feel sad."

image 5: "Invisible fish swim this ghost ocean now described by waves of sand, by water-worn rock. Soon the fish will learn to walk. Then humans will come ashore and paint dreams on the dying stone. Then later, much later, the ocean floor will be punctuated by Chevy trucks, carrying the dreamers’ decendants, who are going to the store."

image 6: "I'm all lost in the supermarket / I can no longer shop happily / I came in here for that special offer / A guaranteed personality"

image 7: "The shadowless light makes him look immortal,"

image 8: "After work you go to the grocery store to get some milk and a carton of / cigarettes. Where did you get those bruises? You don’t remember. / Work was boring. You find a jar of bruise cream and a can of stewed / tomatoes. Maybe a salad? Spinach, walnuts, blue cheese, apples, and / you can’t decide between the Extra Large or Jumbo black olives. Which / is bigger anyway? Extra Large has a blue label, Jumbo has a purple / label. Both cans cost $1.29. While you’re deciding, the afternoon light / is streaming through the windows behind the bank of checkout coun- / ters. Take the light inside you like a blessing, like a knee in the chest, / holding onto it and not letting it go. Now let it go."

image 9: an image of a retro grocery store

image 10: "But I still remember everything / How we'd drift buying groceries, how you'd dance for me"

image 11: "I dreamed a few years back that I was in a supermarket checking out when I had the stark and luminous and devastating realization -in that clear way, not that oh yeah way- that my life would end. I wept in line watching people go by their carts, watching the cashier move items over the scanner, feeling such an absolute love for this life. And the mundane fact of buying groceries with other people whom I do not know, like all the banalities, would be no more so soon, or now. Good as now."

image 12: "Fluorescent store lights, you shine through the night / Illuminate my pores, and you tear me apart / Mercy on me, would you please spare me tonight / I'm tired of this searching, would you let me let go"

image 13: "A man walks into a convenience store, still you, saying: / I only wanted something simple, something generic..."

image 14: a picture of the door to a convenience store, its edited and the entire photo is bright neon

image 15: "In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! / What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!—and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?"

image 16: a picture of a empty grocery store, fluorescent lights reflecting on the tile floor

image 17: "I propose that we are all products in an / increasingly capitalistic market // No one wants you in the end"

image 18: "The drugstores are open all night / The only real reason I moved to the east side / I love a good place to hide in plain sight"

image 19: "Do sane people haunt the aisles of grocery stores in search of some sensibility?"

image 20: "Time does not exist inside of a supermarket. People walk in with lists and cravings and they're out automatic"

image 21: a picture of a somewhat rundown grocery store

image 22: "I often stand and stare / At nothing in the grocery store / Because I do not know / What to buy to eat any more"

image 23: "You enter the same grocery store you’ve been going to for years. The layout is entirely different. You don’t recognize any of the employees. The only thing linking it to the previous times you’ve been here is the faded tile floor."

image 24: a drawing of a supermarket, the view is from above, and you can see the aisles

image 25: "Busy crowds, lonly hearts, broken dreams / Shopping for yesterday. / Visiting the shared moments, / In all the familiar places / When shopping for yesterday."

image 26: a drawing of an aisle in a grocery store

image 27: "Those nights in that in-between time / In in-between spaces, / Truck stops and 24-hour diners / From bygone eras and unforgiving lights all / Left up bright,"

image 28: "I could spend my life in the supermarket, going around the aisles / Walking among the plentiful and the abundant / Looking for things to help plug the holes inside, / Looking for something, hungry for something, I don't know what / But something that probably can't be found on shelves / Something that was maybe lost a long time ago."

image 29: a picture of a grocery store at night, taken from outside

image 30: "I'm a lost child in the supermarket / Looking for my mom / I have no idea where to look"

image 31: "at the local (supermarket) - / and i can't feel the bitter loneliness / while walking down an aisle / of ready-meals... // to be honest, walking in a graveyard / gives me a more cheerful aura / than walking in the supermarket..."

image 32: "but tonight, under the fluorescent lights of Dollar City," /END ID]

#words #poetry #web weaving #compilations #parallels #richard siken #mitski #trc #anne carson #allen ginsberg #joy harjo #phoebe bridgers #lorde #the clash #atl #grocery store tag #john grant #*mine #my parallels #3 am #w #p

[extasiswings]

“i’ll keep you warm” eddie has a nightmare post-shooting 👀 (or however you wanna write it!)

This was not supposed to be this long...rated M-ish for some mild smut at the end. On ao3 here.

The thing Eddie remembers most about the shooting isn’t the shot itself, or the pain, or even the fear—it’s the cold. The icy numbness of shock curling down his spine, twisting through his veins like tendrils of frost creeping across a windowpane in winter. Cold, as his pulse skyrocketed, his body’s signals all crossed and confused and trying to circulate blood, not seeming to grasp the fact that his blood was seeping out onto the asphalt beneath him, that trying to circulate it faster was just making it worse. Cold, like he was a stupid kid at camp diving into a frigid lake before dawn, except above him was blue sky and a bright sun beating down and the fact that it was Los Angeles in May didn’t do a damn thing to help.

He couldn’t feel it. He could only feel the cold.

Buck, though—Buck, he felt. Buck’s hands burned, on his chest, his neck, his face, so warm that Eddie almost wanted to flinch away, but he didn’t. He was aware enough to realize that if Buck was warm, he was probably telling the truth when he said he wasn’t hurt. And that was good. That was all he needed to know.

The cold—

Eddie’s been through enough in his life to know that his subconscious works in weird ways. After Afghanistan he dreamed more directly of burning helicopters and gunfire, blood in his mouth and smoke on his tongue. Shadows and screams and guilt. After the well his dreams were of Christopher, Shannon, waves crashing on a beach. And Buck. Sunlight.

This time...this time Eddie dreams of drowning. Trapped beneath ice, his hands slamming against it, eventually forced to inhale—water flooding his mouth, his throat, his lungs—cold, cold, cold—

Sometimes after he wakes he’ll spend hours shivering. Phantom chills that won’t go away even when he wraps himself in blankets.

The therapist he’s mandated to see before he can be cleared for work tells him that the brain doesn’t always process trauma by taking the most direct path. Eddie doesn’t know why his has fixated on this. The cold. Maybe it’s just easiest. Because the shooting—

His chest gets tight when he’s walking in open air. Sweat breaks out across his brow when the sunlight glints off of windows. His pulse races.

He can’t breathe.

It feels a little like drowning.

“Do you feel safe?” Dr. Kingston asks one session. And Eddie thinks about freezing in a grocery store parking lot, gripping the edge of a cart to keep his hands from shaking, thinks about Buck curving a hand around his shoulder, solid and warm—

“Sometimes,” Eddie admits. “It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

He tastes the lie on his tongue before it slips out.

“I don’t know.”

*

When the world shut down and Eddie had to leave Christopher with his abuela so that he could keep working without worrying constantly that he was putting his son at risk, Buck’s was the obvious place to go. And Eddie doesn’t know if things would have been different if it had been just the two of them but Hen and Chim deciding it was also the obvious place for them to go meant there weren’t a lot of options for sleeping arrangements.

So Eddie shared the bed with Buck. And it didn’t matter if either of them wound up wrapped around the other, the lines of their bodies pressed close enough to bleed together. If they curled into one another like plants twisting to find the light.

It was...instinct. To seek comfort. Warmth. Touch. Both of them alone for so long, and just needing—

Needing.

They never talked about it—there wasn’t anything to talk about. If it made Eddie’s heart race, if it made him ache for something he hadn’t expected and didn’t wholly understand, if when he returned home alone again his own bed felt too empty, that was his own problem.

Now, though—

Now, he knows. Because he stood frozen on the street and stared at Buck with Carla’s words in his head—make sure you’re following your heart—and realized oh. It hadn’t just been convenience, it had been love. Need and desire and love.

Now, he knows, but doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge, with the awareness he has suddenly. Buck is living in his house, in his space, helping him with Christopher and with his own recovery, making sure he takes his meds and gets to his appointments and does his exercises. Buck is there all the time and it’s a blessing and a curse because Eddie burns whenever Buck touches him.

And Buck touches him. A lot.

He hadn’t at first, right after Eddie came home from the hospital—Eddie would catch him sometimes looking like he wanted to, but holding back, reaching out but stopping himself, and Eddie never asked why. Even now he doesn’t think he ever needed to—he knows what it’s like to be afraid, to be unsteady, adrift, worrying that touching something you expect to be solid will reveal it’s just an illusion. Not wanting to find out if it is.

But Buck touches him now. And sometimes Eddie will wake up to find that Buck’s migrated from the couch in the living room to a chair by his bed, folded in and fitfully asleep. Buck never says, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s so Buck can reassure himself that Eddie’s still breathing.

Eddie understands that need too. Sometimes he isn’t sure himself.

The first time it happens after Buck’s relationship with Taylor has flamed out—for himself, he and Ana have been over since just after he left the hospital—Eddie finally just gets up.

“Buck.” He curves a hand around the side of Buck’s neck and passes his thumb along the edge of his jaw.

Buck startles awake, looking somehow guilty.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I? Sorry, I know it’s—I can go back to the—”

“Will you just come to bed?” Eddie interrupts before Buck successfully talks himself into leaving the room. “Please?”

Buck’s eyes flick down to his shoulder. He swallows hard.

“I don’t want to—”

Oh.

“You won’t hurt me,” Eddie promises. “Okay?”

Buck searches his face in the dark, but if he sees anything, he clearly doesn’t mind because he nods and gets up from the chair. When they both resettle on the mattress, Buck only pauses for a moment before curving around him like a parenthesis, his arm falling across Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“Is this—?”

Eddie closes his eyes and sinks into the embrace. If it feels just a little bit like cheating because he hasn't told Buck how he feels, that’s between him and god.

“It’s fine,” he assures, then adds to make it a little more fair, “you aren’t the only one who needs—you aren’t the only one.”

Buck relaxes at that, his grip tightening a little with newfound certainty.

When Eddie dreams, he doesn’t drown.

*

“You look good,” Dr. Kingston acknowledges two weeks later. “You’ve been sleeping better?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “I stopped having nightmares, so I haven’t been waking up as much.”

He catches the surprise that flickers across her face.

“They stopped completely?” She asks. “Have you been doing something different or—?”

Eddie shifts in his chair and clears his throat. What is he supposed to tell her? That he stopped having nightmares when he started sleeping with Buck every night? He’s not really ready to unpack that with his therapist—he’s barely ready to unpack it in his own head.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he says. Dr. Kingston puts down her pen and levels him with a long look that tells him she knows that’s bullshit and is trying to decide whether to push or let it go until another time.

She lets it go.

“Well,” she replies. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Eddie feels like he’s dodged another bullet.

Later, though, he wonders if he shouldn’t have said more. If he shouldn’t have asked questions. Because he goes to sleep and—

The water is pitch black and freezing. Eddie’s eyes sting, but it doesn’t matter whether he keeps them open or not—there’s nothing to see. He kicks his legs anyway, swims up, up, up, even though it hurts to make his limbs work when they’re so cold. There’s a faint light—the surface—and he kicks harder, desperate to reach—

Ice. Nothing but a sheet of ice, solid and thick. His lungs burn from lack of air, his palms beat against the ice—

He can’t keep moving. It’s too cold. He can’t—

“Eddie. Eddie.” Hands seize him from nowhere, almost too warm, and Eddie could have sworn the ice had no cracks, but he’s being lifted out—

“Eddie.”

He snaps awake, gasping. Buck’s face swims into view, worry painted across every line. His hands are on Eddie’s shoulders.

They’re so warm.

Eddie shivers.

“You were hyperventilating,” Buck says. “I thought—”

“Just a dream,” Eddie grits out, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. He still feels frozen. Stupid—it was a dream, it wasn’t real, so he shouldn’t—it shouldn’t be this difficult.

He shivers again.

Buck’s brow furrows deeper.

“You’re shaking—are you cold?”

Eddie sits up and scrubs his hands over his face. He swallows back the denial on his tongue, the urge to run away and hide in the bathroom until a scalding shower makes him feel somewhat human again. Maybe he can’t always be honest with his therapist, but he can be honest with Buck.

“Yes,” he admits. “But it’s not—it’s just in my head. When I got shot I—it’s hard to explain but, yes. I’m cold. Freezing. I don’t know how—”

He cuts off and Buck shifts on the mattress, reaches out slowly so Eddie has plenty of time to stop him if he doesn’t want to be touched, and finally wraps his arms around him, pulling Eddie firmly against his chest.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Buck says quietly. And Eddie—

Something in him cracks. Not like ice during a thaw, but resolve after too much time of being worn down, pressure applied in precisely the right spot. He’s raw and ragged and his scarred heart hardly feels like anything anyone should want, but he’s so tired of pretending he hasn’t been trying to press it into Buck’s hands for a year in different ways. He’s tired of not asking and being afraid and waiting. He’s tired—

Buck makes a soft sound of surprise when Eddie kisses him. But he doesn’t push him away. And Eddie can’t help himself from pressing closer, curling one hand into Buck’s shirt and the other around the back of his neck and kissing him again and again and again, feeling altogether too frantic. He’ll probably find it in himself to be embarrassed in the morning, but want and desperation have left very little room for shame at the moment.

Buck kisses him back. His hands drop to Eddie’s hips as Eddie does his best to climb into his lap.

“Eddie,” Buck pants between kisses. “Eddie—I—” His head falls back and Eddie takes the opportunity to continue his exploration down the exposed line of Buck’s neck.

“Should we talk about this?” Buck finally manages, even as his own hands flirt with the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie freezes. The answer, of course, is yes. But talking is the last thing he wants to do when part of him still feels chilled to the bone, not wholly alive. He wants to be touched, wants to be consumed, wants to fall into orbit around Buck’s sun and never leave.

And it’s late. Dark. The two of them, the bed, the very room caught in a liminal space where anything could happen, anything could be said, anything could be forgiven. Eddie can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a dangerous one.

His mouth drags along the edge of Buck’s jaw.

“This isn’t because I wanted someone and you happened to be here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He doesn’t look at Buck’s face. It’s easier to not, to focus on something else. He stopped going to confession a long time ago, but he never had to look directly at his priest either, always some curtain or other barrier obscuring things, lending the illusion of privacy, anonymity.

“I’m in love with you,” he admits, and Buck’s hands flex on his hips. “I’ve been in love with you. So we can talk about this if you want, but—”

In an instant, Eddie’s on his back, the rest of his sentence swallowed up by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Buck is a warm, solid weight on top of him, pinning him, anchoring him, and Eddie finds he doesn’t mind when it forces him to be in the moment, reminds him that he’s fully in his own body.

“I love you, too,” Buck whispers when the kiss breaks, and then he’s pushing Eddie’s shirt up and off and dispensing with his own—

Shannon was his first. Eddie wasn’t hers and he remembers being glad that at least one of them had some idea of what to do because the second she touched him he was so overwhelmed by sensation that he could hardly think.

This is…not dissimilar. Buck’s chest presses flush against his, all warm, bare skin, and Eddie feels like he could drown in a different way. He arches up, seeking Buck’s mouth again, and Buck obliges.

Eddie’s focus narrows to certain points—the slick slide of Buck’s tongue against his, Buck’s hand ghosting along his ribs, the careful space between their hips and the low burn of heat in his gut that makes him want to close the gap—

His hands slide up Buck’s back slowly, his fingers tracing the knobs of Buck’s spine, the sharp edges of his shoulder blades—they dance along the line of his shoulders too, sketching the breadth that he’s noticed but never allowed his thoughts to linger on. His touch is careful, reverent, as if Buck is a holy thing that his stained, sinner hands have no business touching. Perhaps, in a sense that’s true.

He’s never been a very good Catholic, but sex—sex, desire, love—sex has always been something…sacred to him. In high school, he shied away from the locker room-style conversations about who went how far with whom, kept out of any discussion involving lamentations about still being a virgin at graduation. For one thing, he thought they were usually crass and disrespectful. But mainly he just—he didn’t care about waiting until marriage or anything like that, but he always knew he wanted to be in love. Hence, Shannon. And why there hadn’t been anyone after her.

Until now.

Eddie kisses Buck until his lungs ache, but he’s not close enough, feels like he can’t get close enough. One of his hands slides into Buck’s hair, but the other trails back down, presses lightly on Buck’s lower back as his own hips rock up, seeking friction. Buck swears against his lips and closes the distance—Eddie can feel him hard in his sweatpants and flushes, dizzy at the thought of having made that happen, dizzy at the thought of more, dizzy—

He feels very much like a clumsy teenager again, fumbling his way through on instinct. At least this sort of thing is familiar, even if he hasn’t done it with a man before. Buck grinds their hips together, the friction sending sparks through every one of Eddie’s nerve endings, and kisses down his neck, teeth scraping over his pulse point. Eddie gasps and Buck hums, low and pleased, against his skin.

And then, just as he thinks he’s used to the slow burn of pleasure, Buck shifts his weight and slides a hand down to toy with Eddie’s waistband. Buck meets his eyes in the dark and swallows hard.

“Can I—?”

This time, when Eddie shivers it has nothing to do with the cold.

“Please,” he rasps, and Buck smiles before tugging Eddie’s pants down just enough to wrap his hand around Eddie’s cock.

Buck’s touch is a little tentative at first, clearly unused to the angle, and the part of Eddie that’s still capable of noticing that spends a brief moment feeling grateful that he’s not the only one lacking in experience here. But what Buck may lack in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm, experimenting with grip and speed and pressure to figure out exactly what to do to make Eddie gasp again, to make him bite his lip, to make him hide his face in Buck’s shoulder to muffle any louder noises he can’t quite hold back.

It doesn’t take long. Even before the shooting, Eddie rarely bothered to touch himself with any sort of regularity, and during his recovery he had even less of a reason to do so, what little energy he had in the first few months better spent elsewhere. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed it. But clearly his body did because his orgasm hits him like a train when Buck spits into his hand for extra glide and twists his wrist on the upstroke. He bites Buck’s shoulder and Buck’s hips jerk and then he’s just floating—boneless, breathless, and utterly wrecked in the best possible way.

Buck collapses on the mattress next to him as Eddie’s catching his breath—Eddie reaches out, his hand skating over Buck’s stomach, and makes a questioning noise. Buck laughs quietly and catches his hand, bringing it to his lips.

“I, uh—I’m good,” Buck promises, and even in the dark Eddie can see his cheeks flush.

Eddie curls into his side. “Really?”

Buck kisses him. “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve wanted to do that. Or how good you look. So, yes, I already—yes. Really.”

Eddie’s lips curve up. He presses a kiss to the edge of Buck’s jaw. As the immediate aftermath wears off, his eyelids start to grow heavy, his limbs moving a little less easily.

“We should probably shower,” he acknowledges, although the strength of the statement is likely diminished by the yawn that interrupts him halfway through.

“Probably,” Buck agrees, but he too makes no move to actually get up.

Pressed against him as he is, Eddie is warm and sated and content. He drifts, skirting the edge of sleep.

“I love you,” he says again. Because it feels important.

Buck hums. If he says something else, it’s too low for Eddie to catch.

When he dreams again, he doesn’t dream of drowning. He doesn’t dream of the cold.

Instead, there’s just light. Just warmth.

Just Buck.

#chapel writes #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fic

[mrs-gucci]

Casting Couch {Charlie Barber x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I was driving home from work the other day and this idea just suddenly took over my entire thought process. so, naturally, I went ahead and wrote it up :)

warnings (what you see here is what you’ll get!): smut. the enemy of my enemy is my ally (with benefits). p in v sex. protected sex. rough oral sex. cum- swallowing.

(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex.

word count: 3.2k

charlie’s taglist peeps! {charlie currently doesn’t have any taglist peeps} my general taglist peeps! @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight​ @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy​ @I-can’t-draw-faces @ahsoka1​ @babbushka​ @safarigirlsp​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

Two Years Ago.

“Y/N...she fucking did it again.” Nicole says as she barges through the door of hers and Charlie’s shared brownstone. “She got the fucking TV gig.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrow a bit before looking up at his wife with an empathetic expression, setting the notebook and pen he’d been using down on the coffee table.

“Bummer. I really thought you had it in the bag.” He says, elbows on his thighs as he leans forward a bit, folding his hands. “There will be other roles; I wouldn’t worry too much. You win some, you lose some; that’s how it goes in this industry. You’ve taken plenty of roles from her.”

She sighs, nodding. “Yeah, I know, but this one I was excited about. And I really thought I had it, too. It just stung a little extra, you know?”

Her husband nods, patting the seat next to him on the couch. “C’mere, sit with me. We’ll have a glass of wine.”

Nicole gives somewhat of a dreadful grimace, a clear sign she really wasn’t interested. Charlie’s been noticing this for the past few months, her disinterest in being with him as much as she usually was, but he figured it was just her being tired. She’s been doing a lot of odd jobs to make some ends meet lately, so it’s probably a result of that.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a twang of longing sadness in his voice.

She nods. “Yeah, I’m just gonna go lay down for a bit.”

Charlie just nods, picking back up his notebook and pen, continuing to review and add to his notes from the day. 

“Let me know if you need anything.” He calls after her. “I love you.”

She only offers him a small smile over her shoulder in return before emerging into their bedroom, closing the door immediately behind her. 

Present Day.

It feels strange, holding auditions for a female lead. He hasn’t had to do so in almost a decade;  just yet another reminder of how much of his life has changed just in the past year.

The divorce had been painful, stressful, and he was honestly more relieved than anything when it finally came to a close, despite it not really turning out the way he’d hoped for in terms of custody over Henry. 

Luckily, he’s dove deeper into his one true love, directing, as a way to cope with the loss of everything he’d worked so hard to build for himself; the marriage, the 'American dream’ family and home he wished he’d had growing up.

Now, after six months of weekly therapy appointments and keeping himself busy with work, he’s feeling more like the old Charlie he was back before everything went to shit. Actually, he’s feeling like an even better version of that Charlie, the best version of himself there’s been in a while, perhaps even before he met and married Nicole.

The first audition comes onstage and Charlie can’t decide what’s worse, her off-pitch singing or her monotonous speaking voice. 

God, this was going to be a long fucking day.

-

You’d heard through the grapevine that the famed Broadway director had moved here to LA, and that he’d divorced his witch of a wife, Nicole. 

Nicole Barber had been your biggest rival ever since you swiped that first movie role away from her. She hates you, and you don’t particularly like her, either, thus your rivalry began. And it was pretty heated, too; the two of you were always trying to one-up each other.

It really was a back-and-forth battle, her swiping roles from you, you returning the favor; it was a game, to put it simply. Although lately, you’ve been getting more roles than she has, not that you’re complaining, and there’s a part of you that hopes she quits the business for good.

Word got around that Charlie is heading his first LA Broadway production and what better way to hit Nicole close to home than to show up at her ex-husband’s auditions? Even better, what if you got the female lead in her ex-husband’s production? Oh god, that would be fantastic, not only for the rivalry but also for your career.

You’ve been looking to branch out into more theater roles, and this is as good an opportunity as to dip your toe in the theater world water. Plus, you’re not necessarily complaining about having the chance to look at and work with Charlie Barber every day...

So you prepared your piece of dialogue and a section of one of the choice songs, heading over to the theater fifteen minutes before your set audition time. Your knee bounces as you sit in the waiting area, eyes running over your script and lyrics sheet one final time, solidifying it all in your memory.

Your name is called a few minutes later and you head out onto the stage, handing over your headshot and qualifications resume. The agent hands over your profile to the handsome director, but he doesn’t even really look at it, already knowing exactly who you are. A small smirk grazes his lips as he flips to a new page of his notebook, clicking the top of his pen.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Y/N.”

After you’re finished, Charlie scribbles one final thing in his notebook before looking up at you. His eyes trail over your figure for a moment, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Would you be comfortable coming back for a more intimate audition later this week? Maybe, Friday at four? I would like to get to know you better, see if you meet all of my... qualifications.”

The look in his eye tells you all you need to know about the true motivations behind his question. You nod, biting your lip.

“It’d be my absolute pleasure, Mr. Barber.” You purr.

He shifts in his seat suddenly and quickly crosses one leg over the other before opening up your folder, handing the top sheet to his assistant.

“Diane, go ahead and have Miss Y/N put down all of her contact information.” His gaze never leave you as he speaks to the timid-seeming young woman. “Make sure she gives her personal cell number.”

You pull a pen from your bag on the stage, clicking it open before Diane hands you the paper. As you write every means of contact you can think of, starting with your cell number, you playfully bite the end of the pen and tap it against your bottom lip, something that certainly keeps the already attentive director’s full attention.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Barber.” Your tone is innocent-sounding, but your gaze is anything but. It sends a chill down Charlie’s spine. “I promise I won’t disappoint.”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t.” A small tug at one corner of his lip accompanies his response. “See you soon, Miss Y/N.”

You offer him a nod.

“Looking forward to it.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In preparation for your upcoming...meeting with Charlie, you take a quick trip to the nearest intimates store, picking up a pretty little lace bra and panty set. Your lingerie wardrobe is long overdue for a bit of sprucing up, anyway.

When the time comes, you slip the fresh lace garments on before putting on your planned outfit, a cute-but-subtly-sexy low cut romper. You put on a light face of makeup, purely for professionalism’s sake, then head out with a small bag which contains various personal items as well as your script and composition page.

He’s not in his backstage office when you arrive, but he comes in a couple minutes later, a strong stench of cigarette smoke trailing behind him as he walks by your chair.

“I apologize for the delay. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

You shake your head as he takes a seat behind the ratty oak desk, shifting a few small stacks of papers around on the heavily scratched surface.

“No, no I wasn’t waiting long.”

He nods, then folds his hands atop the desk, eyes flickering up to meet yours. For a moment, his eyes dart down to where your cleavage creeps out of your low-cut top.

“You’ve got the part.” Charlie says with a small smile. “You’re by far the best and most qualified audition we had yesterday, and I like the way you carry yourself. You’re exactly the type of person I like working with. Part’s yours if you want it.”

You’re overcome with joy, a wide smile spreading itself across your lips. “I’d love to be a part of this production, Mr. Barber. I’m really excited to get to work with you and the rest of the crew.”

“That’s great, I’m glad to hear it.” He nods, smile widening when as he processes your acceptance. His delighted expression falls after a few moments, replaced by one much more salacious.

“Now that we’ve gotten that part out of the way...I think you know why I called a meeting of such, uh, privacy.”

You smirk softly, shifting around in your seat slightly. “I believe I do.”

His feet plant on the ground as he pushes the rolling office chair out from under the desk, standing up and walking around the desk to tower over you. 

“Before anything happens, though, I want you to know that whether or not you do this with me will not affect my casting decision. Even if you decline, you still have the part.”

You nod before standing, quickly and swiftly, stepping forward to press yourself flush against him.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

Your hands rest on his chest, neck craning slightly to look up at him. “Just kiss me, will you?”

He laughs, massive hand moving to cradle the back of your head before he bends down and connects your lips in a passionate kiss. There’s nothing tender or gentle about this embrace, it’s all tongue and teeth, raw lust coursing between your two bodies.

“Couch.” His voice is soft but husky.

“Unzip me first?” You ask, turning around so he can unzip you. He does, then his hands slide down to your hips and pushes you towards the leather couch tucked in the corner of his office.

The material squeaks when you’re laid down on top of it, head resting comfortably on the cushy fabric accent pillow as he climbs on top of you. He presses his hips forward while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and plants kisses on the skin there.

Your eyes widen as his impressive bulge rubs up against your inner thigh and you quickly wonder how in the world you’ll be able to take him. His crooked teeth scrape over the taut muscles in your neck while his hands pull the backs of your romper down over your shoulders.

His hands grab and grope your breasts beneath where they rest in your nice bra, one you wore just for him, and your back arches slightly up off the cushions with a soft sigh. 

A small smile crosses his expression, teeth sinking gently into your neck. “I like the little noises you make for me, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You smirk, running your hands through his hair. “Then I bet you’ll like my moans, too. If you think you can draw them out of me, that is.”

He laughs softly, sucking and licking at at the place his teeth have just abused. “Is that a challenge?”

“Well, it’s more like an invitation to prove yourself, but ‘challenge’ is also a good word for it.”

Charlie pulls away with a smirk, shaking his head as he sits back on his haunches and begins to unbuckle his belt.

“Brat.”

Once he’s undone his pants and pulled them down enough to expose himself to you, he leans down once more and pulls your romper the rest of the way off, leaving you completely bare, minus your undergarments. His eyes roam your figure for a moment before he dips a hand beneath the patch of black fabric nestled between your thighs.

Your breath hitches as his fingertips swipe over your erect clit, giving it a few little circles before yanking the panties off your hips and down your ankles, tossing them down alongside your previously-discarded romper.

His eyes widen in realization, cheeks flushing pink.

“Do you have any, um, protection?”

You smirk, nodding as you sit up and pat his chest. “Indeed, I do.”

He crawls off of you and you walk over to your purse, grabbing a condom from the mini-stash you keep in your wallet, the one you replenished just minutes before you left the house this afternoon. He takes it from you and pinches the tip, rolling it down his shaft. For a moment, you’re worried that it isn’t going to fit, but he rolls it on with little issue.

His hips press forward, then, entering you slowly but steadily with a soft grunt. You whine as your insides stretch out around him, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair.  “S-Shit.”

“You’re really fucking tight, jesus.” He growls between gritted teeth, jaw screwed shut as his hips begin to move. “I haven’t fffucked anyone in a while, Y/N, so I can’t guarantee that I’ll last very long.”

You nod, softly. “It’s alright, Charlie; it’s been a little while for muh--me, too.”

Your eyes flutter shut and your face begins to scrunch up with each time his fat cockhead brushes up against your cervix. His pace increases after a minute or so, a consistent slap-slap-slap noise now echoing off the drywall with each snap of his hips. 

“You’ve got a nice little pussy, you know that? Always knew you would be, too, knew you’d be a good little cccocksleeve.”

You moan shakily as he adjusts his position, towering over you and pinning your wrists above your head with one of his large hands. Your body begins to bounce, tits, thighs and tummy jiggling each time he thrusts in. 

He’s starting to sweat, a few dark hairs sticking to his dimly-glowing forehead, more and more accumulating there as his hair rocks back and forth in time with the rhythm of his hips.

“Touch yourself, now, rrrub your little clit.” His voice is getting shaky as he draws nearer to climax.

Nodding, your hand slides down between your joined bodies until your fingertips settle onto the small bundle of nerves. The hand that’s still weaved in Charlie’s locks clenches and he lets out a sudden deep growl, hips stuttering for a moment.

“Ooooh, Charlie.” You moan, hips lifting and gyrating against both his cock and your fingers.

“God, fffuck I love this cunt.” A vulgar squelching sound knits itself within the quilt of your salacious symphony. “Wrapped around my cock like a vice, gonna pull the fucking cum right out of it. Swear you get tighter each time I push back in...christ, I’m not gonna last.”

Your fingers circle your clit faster, setting a desperate pace, one that almost matches his quick and sloppy thrusts. You’re close now, too, and it doesn’t take much longer for your orgasm to hit.

You cream around him with a long moan and a string of various other noises, with a few profanities thrown in as well. The product of your release coats his shaft in a pearlescent sheen, dripping down his ball-sack soon enough. 

The sensations your climax creates around Charlie forces him to pull away almost immediately after, quickly yanking the condom off and onto his office floor, squeezing the base of his flaming red length. 

His hand seizes your jaw tightly, thumb pressing down on your tongue, prying your mouth open. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth and shove my cum down your throat, and you’re gonna take it all, isn’t that right?”

You’re nodding instantly, slacking your jaw to open even further in preparation for his upcoming intrusion. He smirks.

“Good. Now, on your knees.”

He sits down where you once laid, lazily pumping his throbbing length as you get into position between his spread legs. He pulls your hair up into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, then lines you up with his cock and eases your mouth down onto him.

“Thaaaaaat’s it, oh, gooooood girl.”

You start gagging about three quarters of the way down his shaft, but he still keeps pushing until you’ve got the whole thing in your mouth. Your jaw’s already getting sore as he begins thrusting upwards, fucking your mouth. 

Tears swell in your eyes and begin to spill down your cheeks the more he goes, mascara surely ruined and running down your face. The sight only arouses him further, a low groan rumbling through his puffed chest.

He’s trying so hard to keep himself together, to stave off his orgasm for as long as he can manage, but soon he finds it next to impossible to hold back. His bottom lip quivers ever so slightly as his length begins to twitch, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna--”

You taste and feel the salty ropes shooting down your throat before he can even finish his warning.

“Ah, fffuuuuck.” His head falls back against the couch cushions, hips bucking gently as each bit of release is spilled into your mouth. His grip on your head relaxes after he’s finished, cock softening while he catches his breath and re-grounds himself in reality.

Your chest heaves as full airflow returns to your lungs, knees and jaw aching a bit sore from their exertion. You grab your underwear from where they lay discarded on top of your romper, putting them back on before standing up on somewhat shaky legs. 

Charlie also redresses, standing and straightening himself out as you do the same. 

“Mind zipping me back up?” You ask, turning around again. 

He pulls the zipper up your back until it’s at the end of its tracks, then steps up behind you, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Thank you.”

A soft smile grazes your lips. “No ‘thanks’ needed; the sweet taste of revenge and spite is payment enough.”

He laughs quietly.

“Well, I’ll certainly be available, should you ever need a little replenishing of those feelings.”

“Mr. Barber, you wouldn’t be saying that because you’d like to see me naked again, now would you?” Your eyebrows raise and you look over your shoulder, a playful smile on your face.

He laughs again, blushing a bit. “Uh, yeah, sure, I'd like that a lot. But I’d also like to see you, um...not naked, fully clothed, maybe at a restaurant in the city for dinner sometime? I totally get it if you’re not interested, it’s not a big deal if you don’t want to...”

Holy shit, he’s asking you out on a date. Well, he’s trying to, at least.

You laugh, cheeks warming at his proposition.

“Sure thing. I just accepted this new job, though, so I’ll have to get back to you about my availability...”

Charlie smiles, shoving his hands down in his khaki pockets. “I’m sure your new boss would be more than willing to accommodate. He’s a pretty cool guy, or so I’ve heard. Handsome, too.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like you have a reliable informant.” You turn around as you laugh softly, grabbing your bag off the chair before stepping up in front of him. Your lips plant a quick peck on his, hands resting on his broad chest. “See you soon.”

He nods, biting his lip to hold back his big, goofy smile.

“Can’t wait.”

#mrs-gucci #mrs-gucci writes charlie barber #marriage story #marriage story fanfiction #marriage story fanfic #adcu #adcu community #adcu fanfiction #adcu fanfic #charlie barber #charlie barber fanfiction #charlie barber fanfic #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber x reader smut #charlie barber x reader fluff #charlie barber x female reader #charlie barber smut #charlie barber fluff #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver smut #adam driver fluff

[rayslittlekitten]

Truth

"You Got This” Masterlist

A/N: For this week's FanFic Friday for @rebelwrites, here's a cute little cheesy scene from the You Got This universe. I kinda miss them. If you haven't read anything from this universe, quick background info: reader is Opie's sister and Jax is 15/16 years old and and reader is 14 and they're kinda like lowkey BFFs.

Rating: T

Word Count: 643

Pairing: Teenager!Jax Teller x Teenager F!reader/OFC

Plot: During a game of truth and dare, you and Jax find out your feelings for each other.

Contains: underage drinking, fluff

Photo prompt:

“Never have I ever... eaten a pickle," you say.

"Really? Never?" Jax asks.

"Nope. They look slimy and gross."

Jax takes a swig of the 40 ounce malt liquor bottle he stole from a convenience store you both are sharing while hanging out at the pier watching the sun set. You're usually the third wheel to him and Opie but Opie's got a girlfriend now and he's been spending less time with you and Jax.

"Never have I ever... bled from between my legs." Jax chuckles.

"That's not fair!"  You playfully punch his arm.

"Ow! Okay, fine. Never have I ever... kissed a boy." Jax hands the bottle over to you. You glance at it and then back at him.

"I never have either."

"Really?!" Jax asks with wide eyes. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

You shake your head.

"Wow. Princess of SAMCRO hasn't had her first kiss yet?"

"Shut up, Jackson!" You shove him, but he barely budges. "This is getting boring. Let's play truth or dare," you tell him, trying to change the subject.

"Fine, you go first since it's your turn next," Jax laughs.

"Truth or dare?"

"Mm... " Jax has one eye closed and he's looking up to the sky thinking about his decision. "Truth," he chooses before taking a swig of the cheap alcohol.

"Who do you like more? Me or Ope?"

"Really? That's what you want to know?" Jax asks.

"The game's not over. I have plenty of opportunity to ask other questions."

"Well, you're definitely easier on the eyes," Jax laughs. "But you're definitely my favorite Winston. Don't tell Ope." Jax winks.

You smile at his answer.

"Your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth." You answer immediately.

"Who do you have a crush on?"

You look at him, not sure how you want to answer. "I change my mind. Dare!"

"Nah uh, you can't do that. Those aren't the rules. You gotta answer the question."

The butterflies in your belly are so active, you feel like you're going to hurl.

"Come on, you can trust me with it." Jax nudges you. You grab the bottle from Jax and take a huge swig.

"Who is it that you can't just tell me? Is it me?" Jax jokes. The deer in headlights look on your face answered his rhetorical question. "Seriously? You have a crush on me?"

"Your turn! Truth or dare?" You spit out quickly and down more of the malt liquor hoping to get drunk quicker to forget the last 30 seconds even happened.

"No, wait, you didn't actually answer my question." Jax backtracks and then grabs the bottle from you.

"Okay, fine, yes I have a crush on you, okay?" You confess. dreading his reaction.

"Dare."

"What?" You look over at him and he's smirking.

"I choose dare," Jax repeats. "Dare me to kiss you."

You just stare at him like he has five heads.

"What are you doing?" you ask, confused.

"I chose dare, not truth."

"Jackson, I can't dare you to--"

Jax cuts you off with his mouth, his soft lips over yours. So many thoughts are going through your mind and new feelings are coursing through your body. Jax pulls away but you want more. You look at him, speechless.

"I like you too, Y/N." Jax tucks your hair behind your ear and cups your face.

It takes you a moment for his words to sink in. Jackson Teller, the cutest boy in all of Charming High likes you? That sounds insane.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Jax asks.

“Because you’re Jackson Prince fucking Charming Teller.”

“And you’re Y/N Princess fucking Charming Winston.” Jax leans in and kisses you again. He drops the bottle that he was holding in his other hand, not caring that it spilled and grabs the other side of your face, not wanting to let you go.

#fanficfridays #fanfic fridays #fanfic friday #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller x female reader #jax teller fanfiction #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction

[goldenkirstein]

somewhere only we know

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

chapter one: somewhere only we know

pairing: eventual jean x gn! reader, as of rn, mikasa ackerman x gn! platonic! reader

wc: 1192

tags: angst, MAJOR AOT CH 139 SPOILERS, major character death mention, mentions of death, mentions of violence. Reader is eldian, but no mention of physical attributes.

a/n: With the end of aot, I needed to write something to cope, this is not fluffy ahhh, but I wrote this while I was crying to this playlist by @alert-arlert (ty for the 10/10 playlist heh). This isn't exactly romance buttttt I don't think I'm done writing this tbh and want to explore that with any upcoming parts. This is also like my second piece of writing for anime and my first time writing something of this sorts lmao, any criticism or advice is appreciated.

next.

series masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You brushed the hair out of her face.

The past three years had not been easy ones. Not for anyone. The years had been especially unkind towards Mikasa Ackerman.

She stirred in her sleep. You always felt terrible disturbing her; she always looked so peaceful when she was asleep, crimson scarf wrapped around her, chest rising and falling. The withered and whorled bark of the ancient tree hardly being a comfortable resting for the young woman, and yet, the tranquil expression on her face could convince any wandering traveller that the tree was a worthy place to lay one’s worries to rest.

“Mikasa, it’s getting late. We should head back.” For almost every week, for the past three years, you would accompany the young Ackerman to visit the grave of her most beloved. On some days, you would sit with her, reminiscing of days long gone; on other days, the both of you would sit in silence, looking upon the vast fields, the view which once was obstructed by the imposing walls; a grim reminder of the events that transpired years prior. Occasionally, you would watch Mikasa from a distance, allowing her to spend time with her memories of Eren.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Mikasa stretched, looking towards the sky. You lent her a hand as she slowly got up. Giving you a tender smile, the young woman thanked you. The both of you began making your way down the hill, one of her hands clutching yours, the other grasping the wilted flowers she gathered from Eren’s resting spot.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “They’re all coming tomorrow. It’s been a while. Wonder if they all look the same.” You glanced down at your feet, the feeling of uncertainty rising in your chest.

The young woman smiled at your actions, “It has, though I’m sure they haven’t changed any more than we have. Knowing them, they would always stick out like sore thumbs, no matter where.”

You let out a faint chuckle, taking a deep breath in as both you and Mikasa approached the small lodgings in the distance. What she had said was true. It was inevitable that all of you would have changed. Turning your head, you observed the Ackerman; she had grown out her hair; the once blunt ends now neatly sat gathered over her shoulder. Mikasa had endured, more than most would have. You understood that. Eren’s actions weighed heavily on you as well, mentally and physically. Oftentimes, you would catch yourself looking at your reflection of a store window, confused as to who you were seeing. A weathered soldier? A traitor to their nation? An Eldian? A devil?

Maybe, Armin had grown his hair out again, like when you all were in the training corps. Were he and Annie together? Connie still hadn’t visited his mother, had he? Did Jean ever shave that excuse of a beard? Your eyebrows scrunched together, questions forming and disappearing in your head. You shook your head, smiling at the thought of your comrades, no, your dear friends, the ambassadors of peace. Did they manage to find a way to curb the threat of war?

Mikasa reached for the handle on the worn door, turning it and stepping inside to the cottage; she closed the door after you came inside and made her way to the washroom.

“It was a long day. I’m going to take a bath. Do you mind making some tea in the meantime?” You gave her a nod and turned to shrug off your cardigan, setting it on the small table by the house’s entrance. You tossed your head back, eyes landing on the grainy mahogany ceiling, your eyelids fluttered shut, and you heard the washroom door close, the sound of water filling the tub following shortly. Opening your eyes slowly, you lowered your head. Walking over to the kitchen, you filled a kettle with water, setting it up on the stove. Leaning back on the kitchen counter, you allowed your eyes to close once more.

You had come back to Paradis with Mikasa on that day.

It was sort of a haze for everyone mostly, the feeling that they had woken up from a long dream. You had thought it was the end of the line for you and your comrades, death inevitable as you were all turned into pure titans in a flash.

You remember seeing her emerge from the smoke clutching Eren's head in her arms, holding him close to her heart. The sight of his decapitated head contrasting the memory of him from just moments prior. He had been sitting with you, explaining why he did what he did, apologizing, sharing his regrets and saying his final goodbye.

Was this death? No, it couldn’t have been. Mikasa was there; she wasn’t dead, was she?

“I should go. If I stayed, Eren...He wouldn’t get a proper burial; they wouldn’t give him one.” Mikasa had come and sat next to you, whispering a goodbye before getting up to leave.

You jerked your head back, scrambling to stand up, stance wobbling, “Mikasa, wait! Where are you going?” She faltered in her step, turning around to face you once more; seeing Eren like this was still a harrowing sight.

“Paradis. It’s useless for me to keep fighting. I’m taking him home.”

“You can’t go by yourself! The Yeagerists would string you up in the square for doing what you did!” Eren Yeager was dead. Mikasa Ackerman had killed him. The Yeagerists would never let her live if they knew that. “I’m coming with you! I won’t- I can’t, lose any more people to this.”

Mikasa’s shoulder’s dropped, giving you a steely-eyed expression. “No. You will stay here with Armin, and he’s taking the blame for Eren. You can work out a plan with him and the others to save humanity.” Armin and the others? Were they alive?

Pivoting around, you saw the hoard of Eldians embracing one another in the distance. A gasp left your lips; you turned to face Mikasa, glassy-eyed, your chest heaving, overcome with relief.

“I’ll be fine. I played my part in this story; I want to go home. Please.” As much as you wanted to run and find Armin, Connie and Jean among the rest, you would never forgive yourself if you left her behind to play diplomat, as she suffered in silence with no one there to comfort her.

You stepped up to her, “Mikasa, I’ve always been by your side, haven’t I? You’re my family as I’m yours, and what kind of person would I be if I abandoned you now? Armin will be fine. He is plenty capable, and besides, who would take care of you?” She opened her mouth to object. You gave her arm a gentle squeeze. She averted her gaze, and she shut her mouth, opting for a curt nod.

And with that, you and the Ackerman girl made your way back to where it all began, your home. Paradis. You turned your head around one last time to watch those closest to you disappear from your sight.

a/n: I hope this was okay, if you liked this story and would like more parts please let me know !! as well as if you wanna see some other relationships blossom with the reader...jean is coming soon tho so yeah

Leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed reading this. I would appreciate it a lot <33

#attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #mikasa x reader #mikasa ackerman #mikasa ackerman x reader #aot angst #mikasa ackerman angst #mikasa ackerman imagine #aot imagines #snk #mikasa x y/n #aot scenario #aot chapter 139 #aot ch 139 #snk x reader #snk 139 #my writing #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #idk if i should tag it as jean x reader but like thats where i wanna talk the story??? #jean x reader #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein #eren yeager #armin arlert #connie springer #annie leonhart

[everlarkficexchange]

How Katniss Everdeen Got Her Groove Back

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 34: Modern AU where a forty year old Katniss has shut herself off from the world from fear of getting hurt. After her sister dies she realizes how isolated she is and now wants to open herself up to love, but hasn’t a clue where to begin. Everlark HEA - the details of how they meet and what Peeta’s been up to are entirely up to you. :) [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: E

The room’s dark. There’s only one small lamp burning in the corner, but that makes the single candle in the cupcake brighter than it would have been if the entire area were lit. It’s a somber celebration, but that doesn’t make much difference. It’s as it should be.

“Happy birthday, dear Katniss… Happy birthday to you.”

As the last note fades into silence, Katniss whispers a birthday wish and blows out the candle.

“Happy birthday to me,” she mumbles. She’s alone and tired and feeling older than she thought she could. In the grand scheme of things, forty isn’t that many years, but the difference between her fourth and fifth decades seems like lightyears. She’s halfway (or more) through life, and she’s hiding from it.

No one could really blame her for running—not with the experiences she’s faced. Her father gone as a young man leaving Katniss, her mother, and her younger sister Prim alone with practically no income and empty stomachs that gnawed at her insides for months as she fell asleep. Her mother falling into addiction to anti-depressants and opiates leaving Katniss to keep the household together so she and Prim wouldn’t be taken by child services and separated. Her beloved sister gone in a house fire that ripped through the apartment building where she’d stayed while enrolled in med school in a neighboring state. That’s enough tragedy for any one person, and that doesn’t even count her own pain and disappointments during the past forty years.

She’s suffered plenty of both. There’ve been days when she has no idea how she continues to function, but she puts one foot in front of the other repeatedly, doggedly, hoping against hope that something will go right for her. The odds should be in her favor, but they never seem to be. Instead, she watches as the world goes by and wonders if she’s brave enough to step back into society and join the rest of the living. She’s been in mourning for long enough.

Forty. It’s a scary number, but it’s also a little motivating. With a shake of her head, she decides. It’s time. Prim would want her to be happy. She’d be furious at the way Katniss has shut herself off from everyone in order to protect herself. If there’s anything that can drive her out of her shell, it’s thinking about the disappointment that would shine in her sister’s eyes if she were still alive.

“It’s time to rejoin the living, Everdeen.”

Her voice is small as it echoes in her empty apartment, but that’s not the intimidating part. What’s terrifying is that she has absolutely no idea how to get back out there. It’s been almost a decade since she bothered, and she can’t help wondering if maybe she’s waited too long. It’s possible there’s an expiration date, and she’s past it.

It’s late, and she’s tired. Heaving a sigh, she heads to her new bedroom and plugs in the airbed to blow it up. Her belongings won’t arrive for another few days, and the thought of sleeping on the hard floor is the reason for her last minute purchase at the local department store. Shaking out freshly laundered sheets as she retrieves them from the dryer, she inhales the clean scent and tucks the corners onto the air mattress. A pillow and blanket that made the cut when she purged her possessions before her interstate move provides a tiny hint of home. Flicking off the overhead light, she closes her eyes and drifts into sleep. She counts the fact that she only wakes from nightmares three times as a win.

****

“I like that there,” she mutters to herself as she adjusts the picture on the shelf to the left of her television. It’s her favorite of the ones she and Prim took together before her sister started med school.

They’d been so happy, arms wrapped around each other and a rare smile gracing her own lips. As it always had, Prim’s grin stretches across her face, and her blue eyes snap with excitement in the image. She deserved so much better than to become a human torch because someone was stupid enough to not know how to douse a grease fire. The senselessness of it all hits Katniss again. Someone cooked dinner, and that act killed her sister. Prim, who only wanted to heal people, died because an idiot didn’t know how to make bacon and then tried to douse the flames with water.

A knock sounds at her door and shakes her out of her reverie. She isn’t expecting anyone, but a second knock convinces her she shouldn’t ignore it. It could be her landlord, and the last thing she wants is a grumpy Haymitch Abernathy yelling at her because she’s inadvertently broken some rule she doesn’t even know exists in the first place. Tossing her braid over her left shoulder, she crosses her apartment and answers the door.

“Can I help you?”

She’s surprised she can get the words out of her mouth. The man standing there definitely isn’t her landlord, and he’s not old, grumpy, or drunk like Haymitch obviously has been every time she’s seen him. The guy standing in front of her must be about her age, maybe a few years younger, and he has shockingly blue eyes which remind her of her sister’s, as well as the same ashy blonde hair that falls in a shock of curls over his forehead. She has the sudden urge to reach up and push them back, but she keeps her hands at her sides. It would be exceptionally inappropriate to grope a total stranger, even if he is standing in her doorway with a smile and a paper bag that smells something like heaven.

“I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark. Your next door neighbor. I brought you some pastries.”

“Pasties?” She squeaks out the word and immediately wants to smack herself. She sounds a little like a mouse, while his voice makes her insides vibrate. Also, what did she just say?

Peeta does a double take before bursting into laughter. “Pastries, not pasties. I’m not into that— Well, I mean…uh… I mean, I could be, but not the first time I meet a woman.”

His face is bright red, but hers feels like it’s flaming. She can’t believe she said that and crosses her arms unconsciously to cover her breasts before uncrossing them just as quickly. She’s not sure which is worse at drawing attention to the fact that she has nipples that pasties would cover, and… Hell, she’s spiraling.

“I’m sorry,” she babbles. “That was unseemly.”

“It’s fine. Hilarious, actually.” He grins and gives her a onceover, which makes her blush even harder.

“Well, pastries make way more sense and smell a lot better. But, why?” She’s not sure if that sounds rude or not, but it’s better than what she’s already blurted.

“I’m a baker,” he offers in explanation. “Just a little welcome to the building, uh…?”

“Uh…?”

She can’t think. He’s staring at her, and it makes her extremely uncomfortable in a very peculiar way. She’s not able to name it, but there’s something bubbling below the surface. If she concentrates really hard, she could probably identify the feeling. However, that’s not an option when Baker Boy is standing there with a perplexed look.

“You are?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. Just moved in. You probably already knew that. I, uh, thank you. This is great.”

“You’re welcome. Welcome to the building, Katniss, Katniss Everdeen. Let me know if you need anything. I always have eggs and sugar and more.”

“More?”

“Yeah. Think on it.”

With that, he disappears into his own apartment, and she’s left holding the bag. Literally.

In a trance, she crosses to her kitchen and sets the pastries down on the counter. Flustered, she pulls a bun out and sinks her teeth into a little bite of decadence that’s got to be illegal in all fifty states, Canada, Mexico, and half of Europe. It tastes so good it’s sinful. It’s doughy and filled with cheese, and she moans so loudly she wonders if he can hear her through their shared wall.

“Sweet Jesus,” she mumbles. “That’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.”

She sits there with a grin on her face for a stupid amount of time before realizing she’s hungry for more, and it’s not necessarily baked goods she wants.

****

Katniss rounds the corner and smacks into a wall. With a loud oof and a screech, she flails in her attempt to stay upright and keep her groceries from falling around her. Just when she’s about to lose it all, strong arms grab her and pull her upright. Relieved, she looks up and falls into the blue pools of her neighbor’s eyes.

“Easy there,” he says with the hint of a smile. “Where’s the fire?”

She almost says, “In my pants.” She really does, but she’s made a fool out of herself enough with him already. She frees herself from his clutches and congratulates herself on remaining calm, and then she sees what he’s wearing. Which isn’t much.

“Holy hell,” she murmurs at the sight of sweat-soaked skin and form-fitting running shorts.

“Sorry. I just got back from a run.”

“I…yeah. I see that.”

She can see some other stuff, too, and it is impressive. She can’t stop looking at him. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and she’s just told herself a few days ago that she needs to get back out there and has no idea how. She did say that, and here he is. She doesn’t even have to leave her building to find an opportunity. There’s no way she’s this lucky.

“Can I help with those?” He nods at the bags she’s holding and reaches out to take the ones hanging from her wrists. He brushes her hand with his, and her insides sizzle.

“Sure.”

She’s going to seduce him. Or let him seduce her. Or get him drunk and take advantage of him. Or something.

Every single fiber in her body tingles. It feels like waking up after a decade long nap and feeling simultaneously ravenous and powerful beyond belief. As he follows her into her apartment, she scans the area and decides to just go for it. What’s the worst that can happen? Her neighbor hates her? Well, that would be terrible, but she can move. That’s how turned on she is by him. She’ll risk a broken lease.

“You can just put them there,” she says softly and runs her hand down his arm. He freezes and looks at her, and she stands her ground. Maybe she’s not thinking straight, but she wants him. Now.

“Katniss?”

She presses into him and trails a finger down her bare chest. She wipes a sweat droplet from his skin and bites her bottom lip.

“Yes, Peeta?”

“I’m not misreading this, am I?”

She wraps her arms around his neck and tips her head back. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Fuuuuuuck,” he drawls.

Looking directly at him, she says, “I really hope so.”

“Oh, hell.”

His mouth captures hers in a searing kiss, and she turns off her brain. She has no intention of thinking, only feeling for the next however long. His tongue is in her mouth, her hands are on his ass, and his sweat dampens her clothes.

Peeta hoists her into the air and wraps her legs around his waist. He stumbles backward to deposit her on the edge of the countertop and rucks up her shirt to slide his hands along her waist. Frantic, she tugs at his waistband, indicating she’d prefer he lose the shorts, and he growls into her mouth when she slips them over his hips. She cups his backside, pulling him between her legs and moans against him.

“Please,” she gasps. “Fuck, please.”

He’s frenetic, all power and kinetic energy as he rolls her leggings down her thighs, baring her to him. When she bites his lower lip, he grunts and shoves his hands between her legs. He pushes inside her roughly, and she whimpers at his pace. His thumb’s on her clit, and his middle finger plunders her as their tongues tangle and dance together.

She’s got him in her hand, jerking and tugging as he swells in her palm. It’s a solid weight there, but she wants it inside her. She doesn’t have time to look. She’s too enthralled in what his lips are saying as they mate with hers.

Katniss tugs one of her feet free and yanks him to her with her legs. His shaft is hot against her slit. She begs for him with her hands and body, but he pulls back slightly to catch her gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice ragged and broken. She nods frantically, and he moans in the back of his throat. “I’ll pull out. I promise.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

She’d agree to about anything as long as he gives it to her hard. Then he’s inside her, stretching her as she calls his name. He’s big enough that it’s uncomfortable at first, until her body adjusts to the intrusion and she’s aching for more. By the time she’s relaxed, he’s pumping into her with her name falling from his lips as he bites and licks at her jawline.

“Tug my hair,” she manages to instruct, and he yanks on her braid so hard her eyes water. It’s sexy as hell, and she grapples at his back in an attempt to pull him further inside her. He’s good at this, she realizes. Really good at it, and she thanks her lucky stars she’s the fortunate recipient of such a fantastic experience. He’s doing everything he can to make it good for her, and it really, really, really is.

What they’re doing is so messy, but she doesn’t care. She owns bleach and anti-bacterial cleaning supplies. She just purchased them, in fact, and she’s going to need all of them if the mess between her legs is any indication. She’s quickly losing control, fucking against him as hard as she can.

Skin slaps together, sweat pours off them both, and he nuzzles his face into her shirt. If they had more time, she’d take it off for him—maybe she’ll wear pasties next time just to blow his mind—but they’re careening toward a climax faster than she knows how to handle. She’s desperate for more friction, so eager that she rubs herself as his thrusts stutter and falter.

“I gotta pull out. I’m gonna— shit!”

He yanks free, and she catches the sight of him before her eyes roll back in her head. His skin is pink and glistening with moisture from her body. The first splash of his climax hits warm and wet on her leg, and she arches her back as waves roll through her. Her hand cramps as she contorts it. Her hips buck, and then she’s reaching for him. She clings as her body tenses and releases repeatedly.

When it’s over, she huffs several breaths before blinking open her eyes. Her t-shirt hem has fallen against her thigh, and it’s marked with his ejaculate, as is most of her thigh and stomach. He pants into her ear, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to let her go. That’s fine with her, although it surprises her how affectionate he’s being in the aftermath of a quickie in her kitchen.

“Katniss, that was—”

“Something we need to do again.”

“I think it gives new meaning to the phrase ‘welcome wagon.’”

“Because you want me to ride you next time?”

“Next time?” His eyes are blown wide, his pupils dilated as he realizes what she’s saying. “You want there to be a next time?”

“I’m not sure I want this one to be over.”

He flushes at her suggestion, but he’s a very helpful neighbor. Before he leaves to head back to his own apartment, he cleans up and then eats to his heart’s content. She’s pretty satiated from his visit, too.

#hutchhitched #prompt 34 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

[thiswasinevitableid]

Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship

“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”

Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.

“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.

“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”

“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”

“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”

“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”

“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.” Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”

“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.

They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.

“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”

Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.

“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”

The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).

“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.

“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.

Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”

-------------------------------------------------

“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.

Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.

Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.

Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.

Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.

“You okay?”

“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”

“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”

“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”

“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”

---------------------------------------

“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”

“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”

“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.

“...You really asked everyone?”

“Ye-no, fuck-”

“Duck.”

“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”

“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”

Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.

Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.

“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”

The photographer cocks his head.

“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”

“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”

Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”

Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”

-------------------------------------------------

The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.

But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.

They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.

As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.

He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.

He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.

“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.

“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”

The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to. Shall we?”

“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”

“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”

They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.

“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”

“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”

Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”

“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.

“It’s a king, we could easily share.”

“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”

He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”

“Right, please.”

“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”

Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”

------------------------------------------------------

“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.

“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”

“I am in bed” Indrid teases.

“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”

“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.

Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.

“You okay there, ‘Drid?”

“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.

“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”

Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.

Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.

It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.

“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”

“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”

“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.

“You’re, hic, the goofus.”

“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.

Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”

“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.

“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”

Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.

“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”

“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”

“Even relief?”

Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”

His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”

“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”

Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”

“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”

Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.

“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.

They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.

“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.

“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.

“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.

“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”

“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”

“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”

“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”

“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”

“How come?”

“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”

“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”

“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”

“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.

“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”

“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.

Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”

Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”

Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugy

[ktheist]

“Tell me, do you regret the day you left? Do you regret that we could have been something more? Because I do.” (x)

x

Returning home after 7 years in the big city opened the floodgate of memories. One, in particular, had you smiling to yourself as you sat on the bench at a park where you used to play with a certain, gentle and kind little boy.

Min Yoongi shared his candy when you cried your eyes out because you scrapped your knee while playing tag.

He also let you copy his homework and nagged you about staying up all night and reading one of those books of yours.

A dreamer you were, dreaming about being on the big screens.

And a realist he was, wanting to go to college to make something out of himself.

Maybe get a degree, get a stable job and get married.

Some time at 17, Yoongi proposed to you. A plastic ring he got at the dollar store was all he pulled out and placed in the palm of your hand.

You still have it in that little treasure box of yours where you keep your most prized possessions— memories that will live in forever in that tiny space.

”[Name]?” His husked voice rings in your ears and it takes you awhile to register that it’s real-time and not your memories playing tricks on you.

Some few feet away, a man stands —an older version of the boy whom you played with in this ver park. His eyebrows rise to the skimpy and his usually sleepy eyes look as if they’re wide awake.

Awake with shock.

”Yoongi,” you murmur, just as surprised.

It is only much later, do you notice the little girl tugging on his hand, looking up at him and pointing at the swings, “daddy, daddy! Can I go play with Minhee?”

So you find yourselves sitting side by side with a distance that screams the years you’ve been apart. You gained some people, you also lost some.

Like how you lost your husband to that skanky co-actress that’s just 2 years younger than you. The divorce is all over the news, which is why you’re back here, where nobody knows you and nobody will follow you.

”How’s the acting gig going?” Yoongi asks, staring at the sandbox where his daughter and her friend are trying to build a sand castle.

It’s their third try and that one‘s just crumbled into nothingness.

Just like you did.

A country bumpkin actress who changed her name and style. You never wanted to talk about your hometown in the interviews, never wanted to mention anything about the past you.

Guess living in the present means living with the fact that everywhere you go, you’ll be seeing that skank’s face in the promotional shoots of the movie your husband directed and chose her as the lead and not you.

”It’s doing great, I’m taking a break since it’s summer break and Taeyang‘s never knew his grandparents.” You simply say, your inflated, actress ego not letting you speak a word of your crumbling legacy even if it’s plastered all over the news, even if Min Yoongi has probably seen it and is just asking to make small talk.

Instead, he repeats the foreign name, as though tasting the fact that the woman he once dreamed a future with now has a kid who’s not his.

Well, to be fair, he’s a divorcee with a kid too.

”There, the little one in yellow—“ you tilt your head to the side, as if whispering a great, unknown secret to Yoongi.

The fact that you and Jeongguk had a child is mentioned too little of a time for it to stick to people’s minds. You both may have failed in the art of loving each other till death do you apart, but at the very least, you’re doing a good job with keeping your kid away from media exposure.

He’s just a kid. What can a kid do with that much exposure?

”—he’s an exact dupe of me.” You laugh, thinking about Taeyang’s puppy eyes and po lips that made you say yes to going back to this old, tired town, “Stubborn—”

“Just like you,” Yoongi finishes, a smile curved on his lips. A reminiscent of your younger days in his eyes.

“What about yours? Is she your eldest?” You ask, the black haired girl looks so much like Yoongi but acts the opposite of him.

The Min Yoongi you knew would follow you around like a lost puppy as you went on adventures to the sandy Egypt and sail ths seven seas.

His kid, however, seems like the kind that would brave through the sandstorms and lead the pirates to a cave full of treasures.

“Aera is my only,” he says simply, an enigma of his own. A book still being written and kept hidden from public eye.

”Taeyang’s my little buddy.“ You smile, “though he doesn’t like it when I say we’re best friends. Says his best friend is this Chungha girl from his school.”

Yoongi doesn’t offer anything after that —which is so very Yoongi of him.

Never saying something unless he truly feels passionate about a certain topic. Guess he’s not interested in knowing about his ex-fiancé’s kid. Why would he be? You up and left and never looked back.

But then, the answer as to why he fell silent for the longest moment comes not like a slap to the face, but like a gust of wind that blows past you and leaves you in that diner where you sit in the corner, in your favorite spot while the whole world moves on.

“Tell me, do you regret the day you left? Do you regret that we could have been something more? Because I do.”

And as much as you did not see it coming, you did not also need to ponder on it for longer than a second.

For you are a dreamer and when you close your eyes, you see yourself leaning up against Yoongi’s beaten up truck that his father gifted him for his 17th birthday, waiting for his classes to finish so you can ride home or get some food somewhere in the heart of the town.

And you smile, “that would mean I’d regret having my kid and I can’t do that. He’s all I have left.”

Taeyang comes running over, his little pudgy hands placed on your knee as he looks up at you with a childish gaze, “mommy! Grandpa’s here to pick us up!”

”Hm?“ You scan the part and easily spot the familiar old figure standing across it, smiling sheepishly at the look you‘re shooting him.

He’s holding a plastic bag which he’ll probably use as an excuse to show that he was buying somethings for your grandmother who’s adamant about cooking every dinner because Taeyang’s had plenty of your cooking but it’s his first visit here.

Your father and you had a fight last night. He wants you to stay, get a job as a clerk and you argued back, your ego not allowing your own father to knock you down to a mere clerk position.

He’s either feeling guilty or worried that you left town like you did 7 years ago under the pretense of taking Taeyang to the park.

That anger you felt has also melted into regret. You could’ve listened and explained than lash out like a wounded animal.

”Then, that’s our cue to go home,” you stand up and Taeyang runs over to his grandpa.

Yoongi’s in the middle of placing his hand back on his lap after waving a greeting to your father.

”Yeah, me and Minhee should head back too.” He nods, standing, “it was good seeing you, [Name].”

You mutter an affirmation, turning on your heels to walk towards your awaiting father before you pause, legs not moving until you truly say what you‘ve been holding back.

”There’s this movie I starred in —about an aunt turning back time to find her nephew’s killer, it’s called Timeturner... I wish I had her ability.”

At that, Yoongi blinks, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something.

”See you around, Yoongi.” You finally say, putting an end to both you and his misery.

But before you can take one step in, he’s calling for you, ”the diner‘s owner passed the business to his son —Sungwoo, maybe... If you’re free—“

”Sure,” you say, “maybe we can bring our kids with us you know... introduce them to the world’s best dumpling.”

”Yeah,” Yoongi nods before he murmurs to himself, “yeah that’d be great.”

Taeyang calls for you, waving his arms impatiently. You mouth a “bye” to Yoongi and mini job over to your father and child how waiting by the lamppost to a street that leads up the hill where your house is.

And this town may be old, but this is where it all began and ended.

This is where it continues after the ending.

#bts fic #bts scenarios #Bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #Yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fic #Yoongi fanfiction #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fluff #bts au #bts angst #excerpt from a fic I’ll never write

[exploradora-writes]

Fireside Love: An Arthur x Charlotte Fic (18+ Only)

Warnings: NSFW, wholesome smut 

Summary:  During a snowstorm, Arthur and Charlotte decide to use their time cooped up in their cabin wisely.

Word Count: 3,455

Notes: Thank you @the-halo-of-my-memory​  and @unpocowboys​ for helping me out with this fic. The both of you are very talented writers! I plan on writing more Charlotte and Arthur fics in the future. These two are one of my favorite comfort couples, so I wanted to make a spicy yet cozy fic about them. Warning: Tons of wholesome smut ahead...

This fic can also be found on my AO3 under exploradora_writes

The first frost flakes began to stick to the window, the kitchen gradually becoming colder as snowflakes began to fall from the pitch black sky outside. 

Charlotte sighed, tossing another log into the stove, her stew stubbornly refusing to boil. She glanced at the woodpile, the three tiny logs lying there in an almost mocking sort of way. 

The clouds blocked out much of the sunlight, but she knew it would be dark soon. She held onto the counter, trying her hardest not to think of the worst, but she couldn’t help it.

He could be lost, stranded with no direction, no food, no warmth.

She shook her head, coming to her senses. Arthur may view himself as nothing but muscle and absolutely no brain, but as his wife, she knew better. He had an excellent sense of direction and survival skills. Any minute he’d be through that door with a load of firewood, and maybe even an animal or two.

She asked if she could come. Two heads were better than one, she tried to reason.

“No, darlin’, as much as I’d love to go with you, I need you stayin’ home and watchin’ over the house, keepin’ it warm. Wouldn’t want any strangers takin’ residence while we’re gone, would we?”

More than one weary traveller, some more hostile than others, had taken up residence in their home on more than one occasion while the two of them were off on hunting trips. While she understood where Arthur was coming from, she couldn’t escape her fear of the worst. She’d already lost one of the men she loved dearly to the harsh conditions of nature, she couldn’t bear to lose another one.

Her motionless broth seemed to stare back up at her as it refused to boil. “You ain’t making this easy for me, broth.”

Talking to an inanimate substance? The snow really was making her stir crazy. Arthur had better hurry up before I start talking to the logs, she thought. 

Figuring the broth was nowhere near boiling over, she took those three pathetic logs sitting on the woodpile and tossed them in the fireplace. She looked around for a match, lit it with a satisfying strike, and tossed it on the pile. The flames licked up the logs, but Charlotte knew it couldn’t last long. She lay back on a chair in the kitchen, staring into the flames of the fire. She smiled, her eyes following the flames as they danced along the logs, remembering all those years ago when her and Arthur danced around the campfire on their little outdoor honeymoon getaway. They drank and sang and made love their fair share of times by the roaring flames of the fire. Sure, it was no fancy trip in the big city, but it was simple and memorable. 

Unfortunately, the fire before her sounded more of a purr as opposed to a roar. She let out another sigh, looking back at the empty woodpile, longing for her strong handsome woodsman to return.  

As if on cue, she heard the door handle jiggle, as the man she had been longing to see emerged from the snowy darkness outside. 

“Arthur!” She arose, practically pouncing on him. He moved his scarf away from his cherry red face, panting from the effort of carrying.. firewood. Loads of it. Charlotte sighed with relief at the sight, wrapping her arms around him. She didn’t care that he was like an icicle, nor that she would get wet from the snow that dusted his wooly blue coat. Her hands met his face, cold despite the large beard he sported. Her lips met his, her warm pink lips melting his icy blue ones. 

“Charlotte,” he breathed. “Glad I made it in time. Bundle up and help me haul in some of this wood. I have a feelin’ this is only the beginin’ of this snow storm.” 

She threw on a sweater, a coat, and a pair of boots. She opened the door to the dark depths of the winter night. The bitter cold nipped at her entire body despite being bundled up head to toe. She tried to imagine how good the fire would feel against her and her lover’s bodies once they were in the warmth of their little home. 

Arthur had made quite the haul. Firewood, some supplies from the general store, and even a deer. She smiled, feeling her body warm up as she thought of how wonderful and lucky she was to have a man like him. 

They fought against the wind back into the house. It took the strength of the two of them to even get the door closed. They both panted and fell against each other. 

“Well, we best get cozy, darlin.’ We’re gonna be here awhile.” Arthur said, removing his snow covered clothes. 

Charlotte returned to the kitchen, the pot of broth finally showing signs that it was preparing to boil. She threw another log on the stove for good measure. 

Arthur came up behind her and kissed her cheek, his cold lips sending a shiver down her spine. “How’s everything comin’ along?”

She smiled as the both began to boil. “Rather nicely now that you’ve returned, cowboy.”

“Hmmm I figured I’d have the opposite effect. My coldness would ruin any hopes of ever makin’ a good meal.”

“Quite the contrary, Mr. Morgan.” She stirred in the ingredients: savory chicken, carrots, onions, and peas. “Because I think you’re so hot, you make pots boil. You made mine boil when you walked through that door.” She looked back at him, stirring the pot in lazy circles. “Cheeks still rosy from the cold?”

“Er, yeah,” he fumbled, “you could say that.” 

She rubbed his face, running her fingers through his beard. “You hungry?”

His hands ran along her hips. “Starvin’..” 

“We could eat in front of the fire if you’d like. It’d be a nice change, don’t you think?” 

“Sure, sounds cozy.” He gave her hips one last squeeze before getting two bowls from the above cabinets. “Smells delicious.’”

“You talking about the soup or are you talking about me, dear?” She gave him a small smile. 

“Can’t I be talking about both?” Like a magnetic attraction, his hands were back on her hips.

“Goodness you’re handsy tonight!” She giggled. “Alright, soup’s on.”

He gave her cheek a quick peck before serving himself a large bowl of soup. She unwrapped some bread she had been saving for tonight and placed it in each of their bowls. They brought their meals over to the fireplace, sitting in front of it. 

Arthur took a sip, his body quickly warming up from the combination of the fire and the broth. He let out a satisfied groan. “This soup’s real good, sweetheart.”

“Well I’m glad you think so,” she beamed. “I always worry I’ll muck something up.”

“That’d be pretty hard for you to do, Char.” He smiled at her, motioning for her to sit closer to him. She obliged, cosying up to him and resting her head on his shoulder.

The sounds of the crackling fire and the slurping of soup filled the room. Arthur tipped his bowl back, finishing the rest of the broth. He let out a satisfied sigh and took Charlotte’s bowl as well, putting them next to the sink to be washed. He’ll clean up eventually, he thought. Right now all he wanted to do was warm up his wonderful wife.

  He changed into his union suit, catching a glimpse outside the window. The snow came down with a vengeance. He grabbed a log from the pile and tossed it into the dying flames. The fire continued to dwindle. 

“Goddamm it,” he muttered, bending over to grab the poker and stir the ashes around. He felt the familiar sensation of a hand giving his behind a light smack. He turned around, his wife looking around, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. 

He arched an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary, darlin’?”

“Was what necessary?” She tried looking away, but try as she might, her lips continued to curl into a smile.

“You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about, missy. Your hand just loves smackin’ my ass, don’t it?” 

“That is quite the accusation, Mr. Morgan!”

“I oughtta smack YOU on the ass.”

She smirked, tilting her head. “Well? What’s stopping you?”

He studied her for a second, then knelt down next to her. “Goddamn, have you always been this naughty?”

“Always have, always will be. It’s one of the reasons you married me, remember?” She lay back on the carpet. “Now get me a blanket, would you, darling? It’s freezing in here.”

He sighed, tossing her a few blankets. He tossed another log on the fire, then lay next to her. He wrapped his arms around her as she shivered against him. He scooted the two of them closer to the fire. “There, now that’s better.”

She nuzzled against his chest and yawned. “Arthur?”

“Hmm?” He looked down at her.

“How long do you think we’ll be in here? Waiting out this storm?”

He looked outside again, the snow showing no signs of stopping. “Awhile. Don’t know how long exactly, but we’ve survived much worse. ‘Sides, I stocked up on food and supplies, we’ll be fine.

She sighed, looking up at him and kissing his cheek. “Well, we’ve got plenty of time, what should we do to pass it?”

He chuckled. “Well, there’s always dominoes, and redecoratin’, and we can always be workin’ on our marriage.”

“Oh? And how exactly do you want to work on that?” She held his hand, circling his palm with her thumb.

“Well, when’s the last time we’ve had to ourselves like this? Seems like we’re always busy with housework, farmwork, all kinds of work. This is a good opportunity for us to just… be in each other’s presence.”

She hummed against his chest. “Sounds wonderful.”

The flames of the fire crackled, and Charlotte let out a small, breathy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Arthur asked.

“Oh just remembering our little honeymoon.”

Arthur smiled as the memories came flooding back. “That little camping trip.”

“Yes! Remember, out on the lake?”

“How could I forget? We tipped the whole damn canoe over!” He laughed, rocking back and forth and waving his arms around dramatically, reenacting the fateful moment. 

The two of them collapsed on the floor in a heap of giggles, cuddling up to each other to trap the warmth again as their laughter died down. Charlotte looked into the flames of the fire, a small smile on her face. “And the campfire,” she mused. “Illuminated the entire night sky. Millions of tiny stars, looking down at us.”

Arthur chuckled. “Yeah, I remember.Them crickets were noisy sons of bitches, weren’t they?”

“I think they thought the same thing about us, dear.” She ran her hands along his chest, gazing into his blue eyes that perfectly complimented his rosy cheeks. 

“Darlin’, you were the one makin’ all the noise,” he said in a low tone.

She sighed, resting her head against his chest. “You’re right, you always were a good lover.”

He rubbed her back, gazing into the flames as well. “You know, we could alway reenact that night. If you’re up to it that is.”

She smirked, smooching his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered in his ear, giving it a small nip. He let a gasp escape his lips.

“Jesus, darlin’.” His lips met hers as he gracefully flipped her onto her back. “I was on top, remember?” He pinned her wrists to the soft, welcoming rug beneath them. It was her turn to let out a gasp. A bead of sweat dripped down her brow, the weight of her husband’s warm body causing blood to rush throughout her entire being. 

She kissed his neck and moaned. “Are you sure I wasn’t the one on top?” She wrapped her legs around his torso and twisted her body around and caught him off guard. Arthur grunted, his wife now the one staring down at him. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Who knew such a typically mild mannered woman could have the drive and spunk of a working girl? He felt himself growing stiff beneath her. 

“No, darlin’, you’ve got it all wrong, remember? You were on top when we was by the lake, after we went skinny dippin’. I remember ‘cause the rocks were diggin’ into my back, but hell, it was worth is just to watch myself disappear inside of you over and over again.”

Warmth flooded her core as she began to grind against his leg. “Well, which was it, Arthur? Make up your mind before...before I..” She buried her face in the crook of his neck and moaned.

“Look at you…” he chuckled. “You gonna cum before I’m even inside you?” 

She shook her head. 

“Thought not. Goddamn, you must be soaked.” He held her against him and kissed her lips. He lay her back down against the soft texture of the rug, his hands exploring her body, as they had on that fateful night. “Now it’s all comin’ back to me. You were lyin’ there, the light of the fire dancin’ across your nude body…” His hands played with the straps of her nightgown before sliding them off, revealing her bare bosom. “Your breasts, milky white…” He planted kisses on them, his calloused fingers running across her pink buds. 

She bit her lip to stifle a moan. “Yeah? Then what?”

He slid the nightgown further down her body. “Your stomach, soft and delicate” His voice had grown low and a bit hoarse. 

Charlotte rubbed her thighs together, her breath shallow as she anticipated his next move.

Finally, he slid the nightgown completely off of her body, the cold air hitting her skin. She shivered, not from the air, but from the sensation of Arthur’s bearded face rubbing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He kissed all the way up her thigh until he reached her core. He placed his fingers against it, and while a layer of cloth separated his touch from her body, she still left out a soft moan.

“Yes...yes…” he growled. “I’m rememberin’ now. How you tasted…” He looked up at her as he slid her panties down her legs. “Darlin’, it’s takin’ everythin’ in me not to devour you right now.”

“W-what’s stopping you?” 

That comment again. God, she was a relentless tease. 

He stared at her as he gave her pussy a long, teasingly slow lick. She let out a soft whimper at the sensation of his warm tongue against her intimacy. Her juices continued to flow, and he was right there to lap them up with his eager mouth.

Her taste was familiar to his tongue, sweet as summer honeysuckles. His beard rubbed the skin of her inner thighs, and she arched her back as his tongue continued to explore the familiar territory of her folds. His cock throbbed against the tight fabric of his union suit. He longed to be inside her, to hold her against him as their heartbeats began to sync. 

He growled, fumbling with the buttons of his suit and he moved his head back and forth. He ran his hand along his entire length, finally letting it free from its previous confines. 

His wife couldn’t help but glance down and moan at the sight of her husband pleasuring himself while he pleasured her. She bucked against his face, feeling herself reaching her peak.

His calloused thumb made lazy circles around her clit while his other thumb circled the head of his cock. 

Charlotte bit her lip and whimpered, squirming against her husband’s face. 

“That’s it, darlin’,” he growled, “cum for me. You can do it, I know you’re close. Fuck…” His cock leaked with precum. 

She arched her back and moaned out his name, and while no one could feasibly hear them in the middle of the woods, right at that moment it felt like the entire world knew that Arthur Morgan was filling her with ecstasy as she reached her climax. 

She panted, her body coated with a thin layer of sweat. “Oh...Oh, Arthur..”

He panted heavily as well, sliding beside her and kissing her, his face and beard still lingering with the taste and scent of her. 

“Mmm that’s a good girl…” he whispered in her ear. 

Her hands squeezed his glistening biceps, then trailed down to his chest and stomach. She played with his chest hair, a sly smirk on her face. “My big man loves to eat, hmm?” she teased, kissing his neck and nipping his earlobe. 

“You’re damn right I do.” He let out a grunt, his cock twitching. 

Charlotte kissed him and shimmied the rest of his suit down his body. 

“Now we’ve just gotta stay close together so we don’t freeze to death,” she said, her hand gripping his length and stroking it. She kissed his lips, muffling the groan that escaped his mouth. 

“Mmm I want us both facin’ the fire,” he whispered. “No more fightin’ to be on top.” 

“Yes sir.” She obeyed, laying on her side facing the fire. 

He slid her body against his, turning her face so he could kiss her. He lifted her leg, reaching a hand around to rub her pussy, still soaked from their previous interaction. 

He slid inside of her with ease, both of them gasping practically the same breath. His cock inside of her was a familiar feeling that seemed to bring her more pleasure with each thrust. 

His large hand clasped her smaller one, the both of them unable to take their eyes off of the other one. The fire continued to roar, and while the outside raged with icy wrathfulness, the inside of their little cabin was a hearth of comfort and pleasure. 

“Darlin’, I…” he growled, twitching inside of her.

A familiar, floaty feeling began to rise in her stomach, and she let out a soft moan. 

He brought their clasped hands down to her sensitive bundle of nerves. With his hand over hers, he guided her and pleased her, as an artist guides his brush across a canvas, and as an artist creates a passion filled work of art, so too were they.

She squirmed against him, barely able to contain herself as she moaned out broken pieces of his name. 

“That’s it, goddamn that’s it…” he growled in her ear. “Cum with me, be a good girl and cum with me..” 

The fire crackled and sparked and so did she, moaning as she came undone once more. 

Arthur pulled out and groaned, spilling his seed on her stomach. 

The two of them collapsed in a heap of sweat, the both of them panting and staring up at the ceiling, holding hands. 

Finally, Arthur mustered up the strength to get up and retrieve a wet cloth to clean up his wife. He smirked as he cleaned her. “You were so good tonight.”

“So were you, dear.” She kissed him. “You always know exactly what I need.”

The fire began to fizzle out. Charlotte sighed and arose, retrieving a log from the pile and tossing it into the fireplace. The light of the flames illuminated every curve of her nude form. Arthur’s heart beat a bit faster at the sight.

He wished to God he could capture her in that same pose. He’d be sure to sketch a replica of it, hell, maybe have her model for him just so he had an excuse to see her naked again. Either way, the sight of her looking like a work of art made his heart soar. She definitely beat all the dirty cigarette cards he and the old gang members used to trade. 

“Something on your mind, Arthur?” 

He blinked a few times before chuckling. “Nothin’. Just thinkin’ about you and how lovely you look.”

She smiled and lay down beside him, kissing his forehead. “You’ve still got it, darling.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“I’m not kidding. You were wonderful tonight. It was almost identical to our honeymoon.”

He furrowed his brow and turned his head to look at her. “Almost?”

“Well, we weren’t under the stars!”

He looked out the window, the snow still coming down fast. “Darlin’, you’d better be thankin’ the lord we weren’t doin’ it outside. We’d be freezin’ our asses off in all that snow.”

She giggled, nuzzling against him and kissing his chest. “Well we may not have been making love under the stars, but you certainly made me see stars tonight, Mr. Morgan.”

He chuckled, pulling her against him and kissing her one more time before drifting off to sleep. 

#arthur x charlotte #arthur morgan x charlotte balfour #charlotte balfour #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2